


Who's the Boss? (aka Charity Auction)

by Iocane



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Bottom Hank, Charity Auctions, Excessive Family Feels, Human AU, M/M, Mentions of past homophobia, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overprotective Little Brother Nines, RK900 is Nines, Sugar Baby Hank, Wildly Inaccurate Monetary Values
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-03-09 16:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 52,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18921208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iocane/pseuds/Iocane
Summary: When someone can't make it at the last minute, Hank Anderson is pressed into service at the DPD Charity Auction.The gentleman who wins him is a thirty-something programmer who Hank feels is entirely too young for him.  He's also relentless when it comes to getting what he wants, which is Hank, for more than just a charity auction date.Hank is not about to admit he's a sugar baby.





	1. The Auction

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this for NaNoWriMo in '18 and I've been sitting on it since then. Holidays, then just procrastination, and a move and ... yeah. So now it's finally going up.
> 
> It's been beta'ed (Stu! And others! I'll update when I confirm who else) fairly thoroughly but I'm sure there are still plenty of mistakes. I know there are a few rough patches but I'm also, at this point, kind of ready to be done.
> 
> This fic also marks the halfway point on my AO3 account. As of the posting of this fic, I have 36 DBH fics and 72 total fics. As of now, I've posted as much DBH as I have everything else combined.
> 
> Also, I feel I should note, this was written in the course of *one week* and it was supposed to end with the charity auction.

 

"All you young fuckers," Hank mumbled as he tossed a length of silk over his hand, then tucked it down, forming a knot. "Never learned to tie your own fucking ties." 

Changing dress codes over the last twenty years, combined with better looking clip ons, and just a cultural shift away from casual formality, resulted in a rash of thirty something men who'd last worn a tie when they were twelve, including brand new papa Chris Miller. 

"Your wife okay with this?" Hank slid the knot up into place and nodded at his handiwork. 

“Thanks, Lieutenant.” Chris gave the tie a slight tweak and a smile. "Yeah, she's actually gonna be bidding. Says either she'll get back what's hers, or drive the price up in the name of charity."

"Fair enough, good luck to both of you." Hank wasn't even supposed to be here. He felt he was entirely too old, but one of the kids over in Vice had gotten his face smashed up on a bust. So Fowler had ordered Hank over here, ignoring his protests that he was too fucking old for this shit.

Hank scowled when he saw someone else making a snarl at his neck. Giving Chris a parting nod, he strode across the room and smacked Reed's hands away from the already slightly mangled tie. 

"If you've got a wrinkled tie, you're gonna look like shit." Hank wasn't fond of Reed, even a little bit, but he was a fellow officer, and this  **was** for charity. Reed was also more likely to get bid on than Hank, the scar just made him look dashing and dangerous.

"What are you, the fucking den mother?" Reed growled, even as he tipped his head back to give Hank more room to work.

"Well, I  **am** a big ugly bear," Hank shot back, finishing the knot and pushing it too-tight against Gavin's throat. He clapped Gavin’s shoulders much harder than necessary. "There you go!" 

Reed stalked off to check a mirror.

Hank figured it was as close to a thanks as he'd get.

By now, the first auction had started and the tension backstage was increasing. Hank reminded himself yet again that this was for charity. The bid ended at around the two thousand dollar mark, which was more than Hank figured he'd get but probably not as much as they were hoping for. Maybe they were working up towards the better options, which meant Hank figured he'd be up soon.

To no one's surprise, Gavin with his cocky smirk and dangerous looking scar, had gone for a little over ten thousand.

Hank was up in about two minutes when it was strongly suggested he tie his hair back. Which was his excuse for only having most of it confined. A few bits hung down around his face that he hadn't had time to comb back into the rubber band he had in his pocket form work.

Nerves had deafened him to most of the announcement, so he had no idea what he'd been sold as, he just heard his name and strode out onto the stage. Any hopes that the stage lights would blind him to the audience was dashed by the annoying subtlety of the lighting. 

Trying to stand in a way that didn't make him feel like an asshole was hard. Over his chest was his preferred but that would look too intimidating, and behind his back would emphasize just how soft he was in the middle. Hands on his hips would make him feel like he was doing a shitty imitation of Captain America. He finally settled for hands in his pockets, coat pushed back behind his arms instead of bunched up.

To his surprise, bidding was brisk, reaching a thousand remarkably quickly. As it continued, he peered out over the crowd of tables, seeing the other 'prizes' seated with the winners. Chris' wife had done her bit and got her own back and they both looked thrilled. 

Gavin was seated at a table with a few others, and Hank couldn't tell who'd won him, the chatty woman on his left who looked closer to Hank's age, or the stoic fellow on his right who had an arm on the back of his chair. Maybe they'd pooled their resources?

"Five thousand to the gentleman with the green jacket, do I hear six?" Hank heard, snapping out of his thoughts. Five thousand, who the fuck-? He located the apparent source of the bid, a table of folks who were looking just a bit more keen than he'd expected.

It didn't stop at five thousand, though. He saw Chris lean and whisper into his wife's ear, then her hand shot up. "Seven thousand! Seven thousand, do I hear eight?" Hank knew the wife came from money or he'd be worried for them.

Driving the bid up for charity, he had to smile at that, giving her a wink.

Bidding reached twelve thousand a few moments later. It seemed to be between two sources now, a rotating bid from Green Jacket's table, and a dark haired guy on the opposite side of the room, at one of the smaller side tables, only room for one or two people. Hank couldn't get a good look, but the bidder looked young, too young to be into an old fuck like him, and he worried that the choice was between a ravening mob, and someone with daddy issues.

When it hit twenty thousand, Hank almost swallowed his tongue, and he saw Green Jacket's table go into a whispered huddle while the auctioneer counted down. Their "twenty one!" came a heartbeat after the auctioneer's "SOLD!"

Hank was in a bit of a daze as he made his way over to the winner's table. Yep entirely too fucking young.


	2. The Buyer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor gets to meet his prize!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The same things that delayed posting this have put me dreadfully behind on a fic that frankly should have been finished by now.
> 
> So here's the deal - every chapter I get done on that other fic, y'all get a new chapter of this one!

****

  **The Buyer**

Connor stood as the Lieutenant approached, and that smile he'd seen oh so briefly on stage looked better up close.

"Lieutenant Anderson." Connor offered his hand with a smile, breath catching just slightly when the man took it. Large and callused with a firm hold. "I'm Connor Mann."

"Mister Mann." The Lieutenant nodded and slid into the chair beside him as he sat down.

"Connor, please. Can I get you a drink?" Connor offered, already beckoning one of the servers over, needing a drink suddenly himself, because his throat had gone a bit dry.

"Whiskey?" The Lieutenant was reaching up to loosen his tie, Connor's eyes catching on his large hand.

"Whiskey's fine with me," Connor assured him. He ordered some very pricey whiskey for both of them, a little part of him wanting to show off, to impress the older man.

"So, not to be rude, but you don't look like you need to buy dates."

Direct, he liked that. "I usually don't, but it's for charity. I was a last minute replacement, too. My friend Markus had a ticket, but he just met this guy and now getting a date with someone else, even for charity, might be a little awkward."

The Lieutenant chuckled at that. "Okay, fair enough." He looked like he wanted to ask more but instead just turned to watch the next auction. "Call me Hank, by the way."

Connor tried not to stare, promising himself this wasn't going to become A Thing. It was a date, a donation to charity with some extra bells and whistles. He tried and failed, his eyes drifting back to Lieutenant Hank Anderson's handsome face. His beard looked like it hadn't been trimmed for the occasion, and the hasty nature of his ponytail just added to the rough appeal of the man.

Once all the officers were auctioned, there would be a smaller scale auction for the dates, different venues offering dinner, private tables, extra perks.

"Do you know what sort of evening you'd like to have?" Connor asked during a lull between auctions.

"I don't know, whatever - I thought they were just, free with the, uhm - winnings." He took a sip of whiskey that could more rightly be called a gulp.

"Oh, no, there's a second auction - they have different options-" Patting himself down, he fished the brochure out of the inside pocket of his jacket. "I wouldn't want to try and bid on a date you wouldn't enjoy."

"Oh. I guess-" Hank took the offered brochure and looked it over. "Wine tasting? Who the fu-who wants to taste wine for two hours? You're not even supposed to drink it, and it all tastes the same anyway."

Connor bit back a chuckle at his near-swear. "I agree. We can get it if you want but the cigar bar looks just as appealing," he admitted, taking the chance to lean a bit closer to point it out, catching a whiff of his cologne. Okay, so maybe A Thing was happening but he could deal with that.

Hank chuckled. "Yeah. It mostly just looks like swanky dinn-Oh. I've heard of this place." He showed Connor one of the last listings.

"Ruby's Supper Club and Jazz Revue, live singers and band, with authentic New Orleans cuisine." Connor read the title of the listing. "That sounds charming. I take it you like Jazz?"

"My dad was a fan," Hank said, taking a sip of his whiskey. "I remember sitting in the living room playing video games with the sound off while he listened to scratchy vinyl. That was our father/son bonding time. He let me listen to the dirty stuff if my grades were good enough."

Connor tried to picture this massive gentleman as a boy but he couldn't. "Sounds like a fond memory," he finally said.

"Mm. It was nice. I still listen to his old records sometimes."

The last officer had been auctioned off, Hank wasn't the record any longer but he was in the top five and Connor felt a little smug about that.

The rules for the date auction were listed and then they began. When the wine tasting was won by a table at the front, Hank let out a laugh. "Did you happen to know who won Gavin Reed?" He leaned towards Connor as he asked, voice low.

"I believe the same gentleman who just won the wine tasting." Recalling the cocky, aggressive strut of the detective, Connor had to chuckle.

"Oh, that's rich," Hank snickered slightly.

Since their choice wasn't up for bid until later, Connor turned to face Hank. "Tell me about you," he asked, taking a sip of his drink.

"But then what would we talk about tomorrow?"

"I'm sure we'll muddle through somehow." Even when he was deflecting, Connor found him oddly charming. He felt, unlike most people, very real. Solid.

"Not much to say," Hank sat back. "Been a cop for going on thirty years. Divorced."

"Did you work homicide the whole time?" Connor had never been an exceptionally good conversationalist, but suddenly he wished he were better at it, wanting the skills Markus had for drawing someone out.

"Nope. Started in Robbery. Did some legwork on a RICO case back in the day. Spent a good ten years in vice. Been in homicide even longer." Then he turned to Connor with a curious look "Tell me about you."

"Nothing as interesting as that. My family's been in computers since IBM, I grew up learning code. Sometimes I work on my own programs or freelance, but a lot of my time goes towards troubleshooting software problems for my little brother's company. It suits me more than management."

"Programming's pretty interesting." He considered that a second and continued. "What you can do with programming is interesting. I mean, I can't even change the settings on my fu-phone."

Connor caught the almost-swear and found himself wondering what this man would be like when he was more comfortable, not censoring himself. "What is it you'd like to do, maybe I can help?" Phones were generally an intimate thing, but if Hank wasn't good with his, maybe Connor could help him? Get on his good side?

Hank regarded Connor for a moment, then leaned back, fishing his phone out and Connor wasn't surprised it was an older model. "Can't figure out how to change that," he tapped the screen once it came on, showing a generic landscape kind of image for the lock screen.

"Oh, I can do that! May I?" He waited for Hank to tap in the password - twice and made a note to change the keypad settings to a larger size while he was at it.

"I managed to take a few pictures, I think, but I'm not even sure how to get at them." He looked a little embarrassed to be admitting such ineptitude.

Connor just smiled. "That's fine, it can be tricky if you're not very familiar with things." He leaned closer, scooting his chair over a little so he could show Hank, taking in a slow breath when the gesture was mirrored and he got another whiff of that cologne. "Oh, what a cutie!" The first of only three pictures came up, slightly out of focus but clearly of a large Saint Bernard.

Hank smiled. "Yeah, his name's Sumo. Can you change the front picture to one of him?"

Connor flicked through the three images, selecting the least fuzzy and making it the lock screen. Then he very quickly went into the interface settings and enlarged the number keypad. Finally, he turned the phone off, then back on to reveal Sumo was the new lock screen.

"Hey!" Hank actually smiled, eyes crinkling when he saw his dog. "Thanks, kid."

Connor chilled just a bit at being called kid but reminded himself he _was_ a good deal younger than Hank.  It was also honestly difficult to be mad at someone who looked that happy over a fuzzy picture of a dog. He was saved from almost staring when something caught his hearing. "This is us," he straightened and his hand flew up, bidding for the jazz club date.

"You don't have to-" Hank protested when it crept up passed the thousand dollar mark.

“It's the one you want, Hank," he said simply "So, it's the one I'm getting."

The bidding slowed at around fifteen hundred, and in the end, Connor paid seventeen hundred and fifty dollars for a date. Well, twenty-one thousand, seven hundred and fifty dollars. When Hank picked up his phone, thumbed it on, smiled at the lock screen, and turned it off again for the third time, Connor decided it was worth every penny.

The auction wound up shortly after that, the winners were given their date information and tickets.

"Would you prefer to meet there, or shall I pick you up?" Connor asked as he slid the vouchers into his pocket.

"Sure you wanna do this, with me, I mean?" Hank was leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, tie considerably looser but not shabbily so. "If you wanna take someone else, I won't tell." Before Connor could answer, Hank's hair suddenly came loose and he winced, reaching to rub the back of his neck. "Fucking rubber band," he whispered. "Sorry," he tried to tidy down his hair, fingers combing through it.

"It looks good." Connor would swear to his dying day that his voice hadn't squeaked. "And yes, I'm sure. I've never been to a live jazz show, and it'll be nice going with someone who can talk to me about it."

"Alright. I'll meet you there," Hank finished fussing with his hair. "Seven tomorrow night, yeah?"

Connor was a little disappointed to not be seeing Hank's house, but there was time for that. He didn't plan for this to be their only date. "Drinks from seven to eight, then dinner and a show," he confirmed. Since Hank seemed to want to get out of there, he just offered his hand again.. "Tomorrow."

"See you then, kid." Hank's shake was firm and Connor watched him depart, realizing he already had a big crush on the gruff older man. Markus was never gonna let him hear the end of this one.


	3. The Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First date! And Hank isn't at all interested in Connor. Of *course* he isn't. _Not at all_.

****

 

**The Date**

In spite of himself, Hank found himself starting to get ready as soon as he got off work at five. The kid was entirely too young, but he had a sweet earnestness about him. He also carried himself with a confidence he didn't often see in the younger generation. They usually came off more like Reed, cocky and arrogant, like he had something to prove. Connor carried himself with a self-assurance that said he'd already done his proving and the world could take or leave him because he was satisfied with himself.

He didn't have that ' _ I own the world, bow to me _ ' manner he found in a lot of rich fuckers, either. "For charity," Hank reminded himself, trying to convince himself he was only doing this so the department didn't look bad if he bailed. Jeff would have his head, besides. 

Immensely glad he actually had two suits, and that the second still fit, he'd had it emergency dry cleaned. It had been sitting unused for a few years and smelled like dust. 

He'd taken his lunch break to get a quick trim. Cutting it entirely had been suggested, but then he remembered the way Connor had looked when his hair had come undone. So just a trim to even up the shaggy ends. Since he was going on a twenty thousand dollar date, he decided to splurge and get his beard trimmed as well - just trimmed, tidied up and looking nice so he wouldn't look incredibly out of place at the club.

Now he was home and taking a long hot shower to ease the kinks and aches from his back. Didn't want to be tense all through dinner, after all. Toweling off, he downed a beer to help settle his nerves, resisting the urge to continue with a second one, refusing to show up drunk for this.

It was about half past six when he was ready, fully dressed, stink-prettied, and as coiffed as he ever got. He wore the suit, one of his more downtoned shirts with it, and no tie, though he had one in his pocket in case they wanted to get pissy about it.

The reason he wanted to meet Conor there was because the kid was obviously filthy rich, and Hank didn't want him to see the shabby state of his house, or car. His own shabby self was bad enough.

At ten to seven he climbed out of the cab, wishing he had a nicer coat. He didn't really have a heavier coat that would look good with a suit, so he'd worn a lighter jacket that hung down to his thighs, but did nothing against the chill Detroit evening. Barely mid September and already it got bitterly cold once the sun went down.

Frosted windows meant he had to go inside to check if Connor had arrived yet. An attempted polite inquiry got him rebuffed. Asking the snooty bitch outright if the police charity auction winner had showed up yet informed him he'd beaten Connor there.

Since it didn't look like he'd be allowed into the bar area to wait, and he wasn't gonna let Miss Bitch watch him cool his heels, he went outside.  Thankfully there was a bench near enough that he could watch anyone arriving.

Connor Mann was, thankfully, very punctual and Hank didn't have time to get shivery cold before a very sleek silver car pulled up and deposited a tall young man wearing a suit that fit him well enough that it had to be tailored. Had he been that well dressed the night before? 

Connor was scanning the area, and smiled when he saw Hank pushing himself up from the bench. "I figured you'd be inside if you beat me here," Connor said.

"Eh, I apparently don't look like someone who can afford this place," he said with a shrug, wishing he had better excuse than ' _ the girl at the desk was mean to me. _ '

Connor frowned, then stepped closer, slipping his arm into Hank's. "I have to disagree with that assessment," he said as Hank's arm bent automatically.

When she saw him re-enter arm in arm with someone who  **clearly** had money to burn, her manner was like night and day. They were led to a semi private curved booth with the best view of the stage, but where they'd be largely hidden from the rest of the club patrons.

On the table was a congratulatory bottle of champagne on ice, a run down of the evening's plan, two menus, and a list of songs, with permission to select three of them to be performed that evening. "That's neat," Hank said as he looked over the list. 

Again demonstrating that confidence, Connor uncorked the bottle and poured them each a glass, tapping them together once he handed Hank's over to him. "To a lovely evening."

Hank couldn't help but smile "I'll drink to that." When he took a sip, he was surprised at how good it was. He'd never bothered much with the champagne/sparkling white distinction, never having been a fan.  It just tasted like sprite trying to be a beer. This stuff was good, though. The fact that it probably cost more than he'd ever pay for a drink might have had something to do with it. "That's good," he said after another sip.

"You sound surprised."

"Never been a fan of white wine before. Generally just a beer or whiskey guy," he admitted with a shrug.

"Noted," Connor said with a smile. "We can get you something else if you want."

"This is actually fine for now," Hank found himself smiling. "So you mentioned your family started with IBM?" Hank knew he'd been a bit grumpy the night before and wanted to make up for it.

"My great grandfather was actually a groundskeeper for the original offices, not anything to do with the computers. His brother  **did** get a job working in the assembly part, though. He met his wife there, who introduced him to a friend of hers who became my great grandmother. All of their kids were in the industry in some way, and tended to marry others who were. Finally you get down to just my brother and me. We were close knit, but never a very big family, even taking in laws into account."

"A close knit family is good. I was close to my parents but they were both one of five, not a particularly tight bunch, and scattered all over, so visiting cousins was a rarity, and I was an only child."

"Do you have kids?" Connor asked, taking a sip of his champagne.

As soon as family came up, Hank should have known that question would come but it still blindsided him. He took a slow breath, refusing to be mad at the kid - it was a fair question. "Used to." he finally said into his glass. Now he wished he'd taken Connor up on the offer of something stronger. 

"Oh. I'm sorry!" Thankfully, Connor picked up that he'd broched a sensitive subject and didn't pry further. "What songs did you want to get?" He deftly changed the subject, drawing the list closer so they could both see it.

Hank finished his glass in a few swallows, then took a breath, very glad Connor didn't push. Many would have, thinking it kind to show interest, but all it did was poke at a raw wound that refused to heal. "Unforgettable isn't strictly Jazz but it's a good song."

"I know that one," Connor smiled, then beckoned their dedicated server over. He ordered a glass of their best whiskey, gesturing at Hank, making it clear who it was for.

"Didn't have to do that," Hank protested even as part of him wanted to kiss the kid.

"You looked like you needed it."  Connor's smile was kind rather than pitying. Not for the first time, Hank noticed how nice he looked when he smiled.

"I do, thank you. Tell me about your brother, he's got a software company?" Hank asked, hoping to deflect from himself.

Connor took the hint, launching into telling him about his brother, who everyone thought was the older one, because he was bigger and more aggressive. "They think when I call him my baby brother, I'm being ironic," Connor said.

Hank found himself leaning closer, getting a look at the picture Connor was showing him, Connor, and a nearly identical, but sterner looking and slightly larger copy. "He's younger in, like, a twin sense right?" Hank asked.

"Nope, I was four when Nines was born. His name is Niles, but had a little bit of a speech problem, specifically my L's, and kept calling him Nines. It stuck."

"You mentioned you had your own programs? I'm not gonna ask if I'd know them because I probably won't but what sort of things do you do, on your own time?"

"Actually," Connor leaned a bit closer as if about to divulge a secret. "You're probably not only heard of, but actively use some of the programs I've worked on for Nines."

Hank raised an eyebrow at that, he never really used his computer outside of work. He had one, one of those tablet-with-a-keyboard jobs, but he hardly ever used it, and even then it was still for work. He used to be a lot more savvy, but after- he'd stopped doing anything he didn't need to for work. God, he had a sad life. He took a swallow of whiskey just as it arrived. 

"He runs STERN Industries. Statistical Technological Enforcement Research Network. Nines' main contractors are police departments. We maintain the databases law enforcement uses, and he spearheaded the full integration of all the systems into the one big nationwide network you use now."

Hank's sharply indrawn breath gave him a whiff of Connor's cologne, or aftershave, or maybe even his shampoo, but whatever it was it smelled better than it had any right to and he cleared his throat. "Okay," he smiled. "I've heard of those, and you've made my job a f-a lot easier, but I asked what you do on your own time."

Connor actually blushed a little at that, shaking his head. "It's silly," he gave a dismissive wave.

"Oh, now I'm really curious." He didn't look upset, just a little embarrassed, so hopefully a little gentle prodding wouldn't go awry. Connor did blush very pretty, and Hank should not be thinking that about such a young man.

"It's, I mean, it's mostly just games. Crim-" The rest was mumbled into his champagne glass as he finished it.

"What was that?" Hank leaned a bit closer, hand playfully at his ear.

"Crime solving stuff." Connor's blush had reached his ears.

"That's pretty neat." Hank couldn't contain his smile. Maybe they had a bit more in common than he thought. "What kind of crimes?" He couldn't help it, Connor was too cute, and Hank was going to hell.

"All sorts." Connor cleared his throat, getting himself a bit settled apparently. "You play a detective, and you have to talk to people, look for clues and eventually solve the crime. I've finished a few but they've never gotten any real notice - I keep getting told they're too complex. I try to make them more realistic than the other games out there."

"If people are saying they're too complicated, then you're probably doing a good job. Also, if you have hours of interaction with your brother's databases, you'd be getting even closer," Hank offered with a smile.

"That ... helps. One tester said one game played like an ad for AFIS, because of all the fingerprinting."

Hank couldn't help but laugh at that. "Yeah, sounds like you've got a pretty good handle on what I do," he assured him.

Their served approached then, asked if they had the song list ready. Not having given it a lot of thought, and since Connor wanted to leave it up to him, Hank just checked off three songs he liked and handed the list over.

After that, they turned their attention to the menus, taking the hint to move the evening along already. Telling himself it was already paid for and he wasn't being a selfish fuck, Hank ordered the Japanese Kobe beef filet mignon, figuring he was never, ever gonna have a chance to try something that fucking expensive ever again. Not that he knew how much, the menu itself had no prices. One of those ' _ if it matters you can't afford it _ ' places.

Connor got the swordfish, and Hank was almost jealous - swordfish was something else he'd never really have a chance to try. It wasn't that he didn't have the money to occasionally splurge, he just didn't have the time, and places like this wouldn't let him in if he did.

While each table and booth remained lit enough for the occupants to see their food and each other, it wasn't long before the overhead lights dimmed and the stage brightened.

The quiet that fell between them was remarkably comfortable, and Hank found himself leaning back, arm draped along the back of the booth. Transfixed by the golden throated singer as he was, he didn't realize Connor had scooted closer until a quiet voice asked if he knew the song.

When he thought about it, he realized why he asked. Hank was familiar with it but it was heavily metaphoric, and prohibition metaphors at that. So he found himself explaining it, keeping his voice low so they could still hear.

They continued like that until their meal arrived, Connor leaned close, Hank quietly explaining what the songs were about, or the history of them when Conor asked and he knew.

The food smelled good enough that Hank almost didn't miss Connor leaning so close. He had to admit, though, the steak was every bit as tender and delicious as something from a place like this should be. Forcing himself to take his time, he lingered over the meal, listening to the music, and still offering a few whispered explanations when prompted.

Hank was just finishing his last few bites when the singer announced that the next few songs were by special request. She then beckoned a male singer to join her as they sang Unforgettable.

"I know this one," Connor said with a smile as he set his own silverware aside and scooted closer once again.

"Not strictly jazz but it's a fu-amous classic," He would be glad about one thing when the date was over, he did swear a lot and he wasn't good at going hours without it, at least not socially.

"You can swear if you want, you know."

"Nah, I think they kick you out of places like this for dropping the f bomb," Hank said with a chuckle. He was glad to know Connor himself wouldn't dismiss him out of hand if he did slip up.

Connor didn't argue, just made a little noise in his throat as he turned his attention back to the singer.

It wasn't until she'd finished the third that Hank realized all three he'd picked were blatantly love songs, not a metaphor in sight. It didn't help that she finished by turning to the booth with an "Enjoy your evening, gentlemen," before taking a small break.

The silence stretched and Hank wasn't sure what to say now. Connor finally broke it. "Can I have your number?"

The question took a second to penetrate, and another few to be understood. "Why?"

"So I can call you. So this doesn't have to be the last time we see each other."

"Connor-" He began, 

"If you won't give me yours, let me put mine in your phone."

That sounded more reasonable, because he wasn't gonna call, because this shouldn't be a thing. The kid was having fun slumming it, but he didn't want to actually  **date** a washed up old cop who spent too many nights drinking. He fished his phone out, unlocked it and handed it over.

Connor held it in both hands, thumbs moving like lightning for a few moments, then he showed Connor his woefully short directory. It had Jeff's private number, the station house incoming call number, and now Connor's. Somehow he'd gotten both o's to be blue. "Thanks," he said, turning it off and tucking it back into his pocket.

The singer was back and the lights drew down once again as she resumed. Despite his best efforts to try and create some distance, Connor wiggled close again and Hank was once more letting himself get lost in Connor's cologne as he talked quietly about the music.

He didn't realize his hand had shifted form the back of the booth to Connor's shoulder until soft fingers reached up to stroke the back of his hand. When he tried to lift it away, those same soft fingers snagged one of his and held him in place until he got the message. Stubborn little shit.

Still, it felt nice, Connor tucked near like this, not quite cuddling but close. Close enough to feel his body heat. Close enough to kiss, if he wanted to. But Hank did  _ not  _ want to. Had no interest at all in finding out just how soft his jaw was, or how sweet his lips would taste. No desire to nip that shell shaped ear and make him  **whine** .

None What-so-fucking-ever.

The arrival of dessert finally gave him a chance to unwind his arm from Connor's shoulder so they could eat. A giant slab of gold-dusted chocolate cake, with two forks. Hank had expected it to be good but it was probably some of the best chocolate cake he'd ever had. Rich and moist, and the frosting had just the right balance of sweet and bittersweet so as not to be cloying. Again, he made a point to savor it, because not even police lieutenants could afford shit like this.

Finally, both too soon and not soon enough, they were outside, waiting for Connor's car. "Call ume?" the younger man asked, facing him.

"I'll think about it, but my hours keep me pretty busy." Let him down gently, anyway, didn't want to hurt his feelings.

"I keep chaotic hours, so call me whenever." Connor's car arrived with a faint electric hum and the door opened. Before Hank could stop him, or even realized what happened, Connor pressed a kiss to his cheek, high enough that his beard didn't protect him from those soft lips.

He could see those ears going just a bit pink as Connor turned and ducked into the car. 

Hank got his cab and went home. After changing into his usual shorts and a hoodie, he petted and fed Sumo before flopping onto the couch, wanting to unwind a little before bed.


	4. The Sneak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor is sneaky and relentless!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not actually finished a new chapter of my big bang fic.
> 
> This is a shame chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!

****

**The Sneak**

Letting the car get him home, Connor smirked down at his phone. He'd relied on the fact that Hank was something of a Luddite about his phone and wouldn't even know where to check outgoing texts, let alone know one had been sent. When he'd added his number, he'd sent himself a text, thereby acquiring Hank's number.

He might not have Markus' conversational skills, but he considered himself to be pretty observant. Hank was interested, but he didn't want to let himself be. Whether it was Connor's relative youth or his money, he wasn't sure. It wasn't the fact that he was male, Connor was certain about that. If it was, someone as apparently straightforward as Hank would have said so. He also would have specified if there was someone else.

Once back in his apartment, Connor stripped out of his suit and headed straight for a shower. And if he rubbed one out thinking of large hands and a broad chest, it was nobody's business.

Much more relaxed after his shower, Connor donned his silk pajamas, settled on his couch and called Hank, wondering if he could finally get him to swear.

It rang a few times, and Conor worried Hank had fallen asleep or that he wasn't going to answer. 

"Connor? What the fuck?" His voice was gruffer, and Connor gave a little wiggle. It seemed natural on him.

"I had a sneaking suspicion that you probably wouldn't call, so when I added my number to your phone, I sent myself a text." He didn't want Hank worrying that he'd been hacked or anything.

"Sneaky little shit." The words were quiet and muffled and Connor wasn't even sure he was meant to hear it. "Connor, look, this isn't, I like you but we're not compatible."

"It felt pretty compatible earlier. I like you too, Hank. I'm not proposing, I just want another date." And another, and some more after that, but Hank was almost like a wounded animal, he had to be lead gently, and allowed to feel safe.

Hank let out a sigh that half groaned. "If you're so hell-bent on doing this, we're at least doing it my way. I pick you up in my shitty car, take you somewhere I can afford, we're wearing jeans - do you even own jeans?"

Connor let out a bubble of laughter at that, feeling almost giddy. "I own jeans, yes. So that's the dress code, just jeans?"

There was a pause before Hank answered. "And a t-shirt, I feel like if I don't specify that you'll show up topless just to make a fucking point."

"You're not wrong," Connor admitted. Hank sounded much more relaxed now than he had either of the previous times they'd met, and Connor felt like he was slowly getting to know the prickly man.

"Little shit. Alright, when do we wanna do this fiasco, I'm generally off work by five but I might have to cancel if a case gets in the way."

"What night works best for you?" Connor knew asking for a date tomorrow would be pushing.

"Mmm. Wednesday," Hank finally answered. "Place down the street does a rib special on Wednesdays."

Rib special? Sounded interesting. "Wednesday it is. If I text you my address will you know how to find it? The text, I mean."

"You know, if you're just gonna tease the old man, we don't have to do this," Hank growled, but Connor didn't feel any real meanness to it.

"But I like teasing!" Conno chuckled and Hank was quiet for a long time.

"Gonna be the fucking death of me," he whispered. "Just give me the address, sassy little shit."

Connor rattled it off and Hank repeated it back. "I'll leave word at the gate and the front desk to let you in," Connor promised.

"Fancy. How does six sound? We wanna get there before the crowd gets too thick."

"Six works for me. I'm looking forward to this, Hank. I want to get to know you better."

"Might not like what you find, kid. There's a reason I'm divorced." Hank suddenly sounded tired, almost exhausted.

"Maybe, maybe not. Only one way to find out, Hank, and we'll work on that this Wednesday. See you then."

Hank grumbled but didn't argue and finally, they hung up. 

The following day, Connor had lunch with Markus and his new beau, Simon. Connor started by thanking Simon for rendering Markus unavailable  and told them about Hank. Seeing Markus so happy made Connor crave it even more. He didn't know for sure if Hank was The One but the fit felt better already than his last few boyfriends. 

Markus was a little skeptical, and not entirely without reason. Connor had been burned by older men before, assholes who wanted a pretty thing to push around. Connor reasoned that if Hank were like that, he wouldn't be trying to scare him away.

That's how it felt, that Hank was trying to scare him away, get all gruff and growly and take him somewhere low brow and dirty so he'd run screaming. Connor was made of stronger stuff.

After lunch, Connor wandered around the mall, getting himself some new jeans. He hadn't been lying, he did have jeans, but they were from high school and he'd hit a growth spurt in college, filling out a bit. Tight jeans were all well and good but he had to be able to  _ move  _ in them as well. He got three pairs in the end, black, dark blue, and light blue, the latter was a butter soft pre-worn material that wasn't as durable but clung to his ass just right without being too obvious.

From there, he found a music store that specialized mostly in vinyl, which was having another resurgence. They also had download bundles and he bought a code for greatest hits of Jazz - 1,000 songs covering over a hundred years. He probably wouldn't listen to them all, but they'd go in with the rest of his music in case he wanted to study up and maybe impress Hank a little. Often, he liked to just put all of his music on shuffle and see what came up.

On his way out of the mall, one more store caught his eye, a hand-craft shop. Inside were various handmade items; jewelry, crockery, leather-bound journals, soaps. As the digital world exploded, keeping things grounded in the real world was becoming important again. On a shelf of hand-painted statutory, he saw something he absolutely had to get. The hard part was going to be waiting until Wednesday.

The rest of the weekend was given over to his new game, maybe starring a grizzled older detective this time. Monday found him in his brother's offices, trying to undo some lazy coding that was causing a snarl in the Pacific region databases. As Wednesday evening crept closer, he began to worry  **he** would have to cancel. Finally, however, he found the core of the problem and fixing it was ridiculously simple. Wishing him luck on his date, Nines sent him on his way, promising to wait at least four hours before letting anything else crash. The rest of his coders could smooth things out now that Connor had found the main problem.

Air drying after his shower, Connor realized he had no idea what a 'rib place' required, beyond jeans. He knew white was out, completely. Swaying along to the smooth jazz filling the bedroom, he settled on a dark blue long-sleeved t-shirt, tossing it onto the bed next to his jeans, then realized that might be too matchy-matchy. Not for the first time, he wished he'd gotten their dad's eyes like Nines had, it made blue shirts an automatic go to. Or blue eyes like Hank. He lost himself for a minute thinking about those eyes. 

Snapping himself out of it, he tossed the blue aside and looked back to his closet. Bright red might be too aggressive, green didn't suit his mood, purple didn't seem rib place friendly, even the darker hues. He finally decided on a dark wine short sleeved t-shirt. Colorful enough to not be boring - he hadn't missed the pattern on Hank's shirt at Ruby's - but dark enough to hide the sins of a rib place. 

Letting himself air dry and fussing over his outfit left Connor with precious little time to actually dress. Commando was considered and rejected. Even if he  **did** get that far, which he doubted, he didn't want Hank thinking he'd  **planned** for it. Boxer briefs, socks, jeans, belt, a t-shirt, and a black leather jacket. Thankfully he'd wrapped his present already.

When Hank sent a text that he would be a little late, Connor was, first, proud of him because he didn't think Hank texted much, if ever, and then annoyed. Not at Hank, but at the wait itself since he was buzzing with anticipation. Instead of just pacing around his apartment like a nervous cat, Connor headed downstairs, figuring he'd meet Hank outside.

The wind instantly went to work on his hair, and he realized in his nerves he'd forgotten to properly tame it, and he needed a trim. Which meant he had curls falling across his forehead, not the tidy style he'd worn both other times Hank had seen him.

Leaning against one of the decorative pillars outside his building, he let his gaze linger on the shimmery paper he'd used to wrap Hank's present. Movement caught his eye and he saw a large dark-colored car being clearly driven towards his building. Now that smart cars were so widespread, actual driving was going to be a thing of the past, soon. 

Of course, they said that about vinyl.

It looked old, and while Connor liked the careworn look of it, he could see why Hank had opted to describe it the way he had. Connor approached, letting his fingers drift over the warm metal of the hood as he crossed the front of the vehicle. Moments later, he was settled into the passenger seat. "I got you this," he said, handing Hank the shimmery box. 

"Sorry I'm late," Hank took the box automatically, looking down at it. "You didn't have to get me anything. I considered getting you flowers but I was already running late."

Connor flushed that he'd even thought of flowers. Even today there was this guys-don't-do-flowers thing but Connor had always secretly loved them. "I was shopping and it made me think of you, so I had to get it."

"Don't gotta spend any more money on me, kid," Hank murmured even as he began to carefully unwrap it. He eased his thumbnail along the tape and Connor couldn't tell if Hank was trying to preserve the paper, or tease Connor.

Connor was doing his best not to squirm. He'd spent several days trying to imagine Hank's reaction, and part of him just wanted it to be  **over** , even if he didn't like it. When Hank turned the box to get at the other flap, Connor thought he saw his lips curve. Hank was  **teasing** and Connor had to bite back a whine.

"Fancy paper," Hank said as he drew his thumb along the line, neatly cutting the last bit of tape holding the flap in place. He was definitely smiling now, apparently enjoying Connor's discomfiture.

"I've got more, you can rip it if you want." Connor was doing his best to look casual and knew he was failing utterly.

"Nah. You took the time to wrap it all pretty, I'll take my time opening it."

"And you called me a tease!"

"Takes one to know one, kid." The paper was off and carefully set on the seat between them. Thankfully the box itself wasn't sealed or Connor would be forced to take it away and rip it open himself. Finally, he had the tissue paper wrapped little statue out of the box, unwinding the long strand of packaging. When it was finally revealed, he let out a laugh and it was everything Connor could have hoped.

"There was a whole collection of animals playing instruments, and I don't know if you even do knick knacks or anything but that one really made me think of you." The Saint Bernard was up on its hind legs, holding the saxophone between two front paws, mouthpiece vanishing into its muzzle.

"I've got a few places this'll look nice," Hank said, his voice quiet as he looked down at the statue. Then he re-wrapped it and stuck it back in the box before shifting the car into drive. "Ready for dinner?" he asked.

"Bring on the ribs."

Hank was quiet for a few minutes as he exited the complex and merged into traffic. "You look good," he finally said, eyes on the road. "Hair's different."

"Thanks," Connor was surprised by the compliment, but smiled, running a hand over his curls. "Yeah, I was a little nervous, forgot to gel it down like usual." He already knew Hank thought he looked young, too young, and the curls would just make it worse. "You look good, too," he smiled, wishing he could see Hank standing but he liked the shirt he had on. At least what he could see of the collar. Black and white animal print. Much bolder than the understated, vaguely floral pattern of their first date. His hair and beard still looked nice, maybe even softer than before, and Connor just wanted to touch it. Fingers through that hair, feel that beard against his lips. He'd gotten the barest taste on their first date and he wanted more.

"Slight change of plan, you okay with burgers?" Hank asked as he zipped passed a place with a large blinking RIBS! sign.

Connor turned to watch their original venue fall away behind them. "Sure, I like burgers." he wondered why the change, but Hank was pulling into a parking lot before he could ask.

There was a large silver food truck with CHICKEN FEED across the top and Hank climbed out, and Connor took a moment to appreciate his ass in those jeans. Following a moment later, he heard Hank order two special burgers and a double basket of fries.

"You okay with coke?" Hank asked as one paper cup was filled. At his nod, a second followed. 

Connor tucked his hands into his pockets, enjoying the sight of Hank while the waited. The shirt suited him in a way two suits hadn't. A bit more off-kilter, certainly someone who did his own thing and to hell with the world. 

Soon Connor had a box and a basket of fries in his hands, following Hank to a small picnic table. It was chilly out but at least they were out of the wind. 

"Why didn't we go to the rib place?" Connor opened the box, finding what might be the greasiest burger he'd ever seen, but it smelled good.

"Because it's loud, crowded, and a shitty place for a conversation."

Connor turned that over in his head while he followed Hank's example, squishing the burger down and taking a bite. He continued thinking while he chewed and swallowed the surprisingly good bite. "Then why were we going there originally?" He had a feeling why but he wondered if Hank would tell him.

"Because I was trying to put you off this whole thing. Dating me. Then you show up with that ... it didn't feel right trying to fuck things up after that. I mean, I probably will but I won't be ... trying." Hank was focused on his burger, not quite meeting his gaze.

"I thought as much," Connor admitted quietly. "Can you at least tell me why you think I'm such a bad idea?"

"Nothing to do with you, kid. Well, your being probably half my age has a little something to do with it." Hank held his thumb and forefinger about an inch apart.

Connor had to laugh at that. "How old are you?" he asked curiously. He figured early fifties or a  _ very  _ hard lived late forties.

"Fifty-three. And you're, what, all of twenty-five?" 

Connor's mouth opened to tell him, but he suspected he'd be asked for proof anyway, so he just fished out his wallet and handed Hank his ID. "I'm not half your age."

Hank turned it to catch the nearby streetlight. "Okay, not half my age. Still twenty years younger. Most I ever did before was ten and that did not fucking end well." He handed it back. "That's not the only thing. My hours make planning kind of fucking impossible."

"So we'll play it by ear. You drop me a line when you have a few hours, and we'll do something. I told you, I keep chaotic hours, and for similar reasons. If the California network goes screwy at two in the morning, I have to be on site trying to fix it."

Hank smiled and shook his head. "You are not gonna give up, are you?" He took a few fries.

Connor leaned close. "Not when I know what I want. And what I want is to get to know Police Lieutenant Hank Anderson. Quite frankly, the fact that you're trying to scare me away and talk me out of it tells me that somewhere down inside you care. Because if you didn't, you wouldn't have answered when I called. You'd just blow me off and not care if it hurt me. You seem like you'd be very capable of being a stone-cold bastard if you need to be, and the worst you've been is gruff." Connor took a chance, wishing his hand wasn't so cold as he rested it on Hank's. "Like I said on the phone, I'm not proposing, I just want another date."

Hank's thumb twitched, then moved out from under Connor's and he worried for a heartbeat he'd gone too far. Then that thumb brushed against his. "Okay. It's not a good idea - and that's the last time I'm gonna say that. That being said, do you wanna get back in the car, it's freezing out here."

Connor was actually comfortable out of the wind, except for his hands, but he nodded. They were mostly done anyway. "Yeah, you go warm it up, I'll take care of this," he offered, gesturing at the debris. He watched Hank head back to his car, admiring his ass again, and wondered if it was too soon in the relationship to buy him a new coat. Probably. He might anyway. Gathering up the garbage, he tossed it into the bin, setting the basket back on the counter before heading to the car.


	5. The Phone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few busy days, Hank stumbles, and Connor is generous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is _not_ a shame chapter!

****

**The Phone**

Following their hasty departure from the Chicken Feed parking lot, they'd gone to a late night theater showing Jurassic Park. The original, not a sequel or any of the two remakes or reboots or whatever the fuck they were calling the cash-grabs these days.

It wasn't the coziest way to spend an evening, but it was warm, quiet, and in a weird way it made Hank feel like a kid again. Fifty three years old, sitting in a dingy theater watching a movie that was damn near as old as he was. Cute boy next to him, eating stale popcorn with Hank's arm around his shoulders.

After he'd dropped Connor off, however, it was a solid week before he had time to so much as breathe. A glitch in some of the databases out west had created a backlog and when he got to work on Thursday, it hit him square in the face. He had managed to exchange a few brief texts with Connor but between work and sleep, that was all he really had time for.

It was two in the morning the following Wednesday when he finally collapsed onto the couch with a moan. He'd been given the following day off, in lieu of the weekend he'd worked through. Once again smiling at the lock screen, he thumbed in his password. He stared at the last few texts between him and Connor, wondering if it was too late to send one. What he wanted to do was call but even he knew that just wasn't done these days. He finally sent a carefully typed ' _you awake?_ ' and let his head flop back on the couch.

His phone buzzed a moment later, and it took his exhaustion-fogged brain a moment to realize it was ringing. "Hey," he rasped, already feeling a bit more awake.

"Sorry I had to call, I'm awake but my hands are busy. I can talk though. I missed your voice."

"Missed yours, too." Hank smiled. "Do I want to know what your hands are busy dong?"

"Nothing untoward, unfortunately. I'm, uhm, working on some of the artwork for my game."

"Oh, you do that yourself?" Hank tried to sound impressed, and he was, but he worried he came off as tired.

"In a manner of speaking. I'm not very good, so what I do is draw up in general what I want and hire someone to fine tune it."

"Love to see some," Hank murmured. Then he forced himself to sit up. "Coffee. I need coffee." He said as he stood, keeping the phone pressed to his ear.

"It's two in the morning, you need sleep, not coffee!" Connor protested.

"Yeah but if I sleep, I don't get to talk to you. I've got tomorrow off, I can stay up later tonight."

"Hank!" He was scolding this time and Hank smiled tiredly. It was nice to be cared about, kinda. "You really should sleep, you've been busy the last week."

"I know. I will, I promise, but coffee first, and a little chat." He had the coffee maker almost setup then realized he needed both hands. He tried tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder but it clattered to the floor. "Hold on!" he called, not even sure the fucking thing could hear him. He bent and picked it up. "Dropped the fucking phone," he growled into it.

"You're not using a headset?"

"You remember that conversation we had about how crap I am with technology? One week has not changed that." Hank smiled when Connor laughed a little.

"Okay, fair point. If you need to put the phone down or something go ahead."

Hank did just that, picking it up again once his coffee began to brew. "Sorry, you sure you wanna be dating a luddite?"

"I'm sure." Hank could hear the smile in Connor's voice and it warmed him. "So now that you have a minute to breathe, how's work been?"

"I didn't realize it at first but I think somehow you're connected to this," Hank said, leaning against the counter. "See, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday there was a little glitch in some of the systems. Nothing with us, but anything west of the Rockies was on hold, or sending back null results, even things we knew should have **something.** I get to work Thursday morning, bam, logjam cleared, up to my eyeballs in back work." Hank tried to sound teasing, not blaming.

"I might know something about that. It got resolved - for the most part - about an hour before you picked me up. It most likely took the rest of the evening for the others to finish crossing the T's and dotting the I's. I, however, had done my job hunting down the deviant code, and had more important things to be doing."

"I could argue how important meeting me was, but I'm glad you could make it." In spite of himself, he yawned, feeling his jaw crackle and giving his head a shake as it crested. "Sorry, fuck."

"Hank, go to bed. Please? You can call me when you wake up, okay?"

Hank scrubbed a hand over his face. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll go." He pushed up from the counter and flicked the light off on his way to the bedroom. "Thanks for talking to me, Connor."

"Any time. Are you going to bed?"

"If I could send you a picture of me lying in bed, I would," Hank grumbled. "Gonna have to take my word for it," he climbed into bed, flopping sideways on it with a moan. "There. In bed."

"See, I knew I could get you into bed if I asked nicely," Connor's voice was decidedly amused.

"Don't know whether you're a tease or a brat." Hank was smiling in spite of himself, too exhausted to be self conscious about the idea of bedding a hot young thirtysomething.

"It's only a tease if I don't plan to follow through. Goodnight, Hank."

Hank had just enough presence of mind to turn off the phone before he fell asleep.

When he woke up, he'd gotten a good four or five hours to his surprise. However, his phone was dead. Plugging it in, he showered, then nuked a mug of coffee. He'd never really given two shits about how fast his phone charged before, but while his coffee cooled he found himself checking the charge. Groaning at the measly 2%, he dressed and took Sumo for a long, meandering walk.

Usually he hired the local dog walker to walk him and check on his food, so it was nice that he got to today. By the time he got back, his phone was up to 30% but he wanted more before he called Connor.

Stretching the time a little more, he made himself scrambled eggs, wondering what the hell he was doing as he ate them. Connor was twenty years younger than him. And from a whole other league.

Hank was willing to bet Connor never had to check his account before buying groceries. Or ignored the knock in his car engine to make sure the mortgage was covered. Or-Hank cut off that train of thought. None of it made Connor a bad person. In fact everything he saw said he was generous, at least sometimes. He turned, peering over his shoulder at the little statue currently on his mantel. Generous and thoughtful. He knew the statue must have cost a pretty penny, but it was the kind of thing he would have splurged on - for someone else, of course.

Deep down, Hank just didn't deserve to be happy. He was a miserable old fucker, and he wished Connor would see that and run for the hills.  At least before the kid got really hurt because Hank let him down. And he would. He was very good at that. Let his parents down when he became a cop instead of teachers like them. Let Ivy down. Cole.

Okay, enough eggs, now he needed a drink. He downed one beer quickly, and when it didn't help, another soon followed. This is why he preferred not to be alone wiht his thoughts. Guilt drove him to a third, both over his son, and that he was probably fucking things up with Connor. But the kid deserved better. Hank was just no fucking good. Grabbing the black lamb and a glass, he settled down at the kitchen table, staring at the spot where his son no longer sat as he drank himself into a stupor.

The next morning, he arrived at work around ten with a raging hangover to find a box on his desk. It had a sticker from a local courier service, as well as a stamp from the front desk that it had been scanned for anything dangerous.

While his computer booted up he opened it, not recognizing the handwriting on the envelope on top.  Paper felt expensive, though.

_Hank,_

_I don't know your address so I hope it's alright to send this to your job. I hope it even gets to you!_

_Did you know your phone is_ _so old_ _it won't even accept modern headsets?_

_Call me tonight on your current phone and I'll help you get everything switched over._

_I'd do it in person but I have to run to California to do some on-site troubleshooting. I'm sending this from the airport and my phone is dead._

_xoxo_

_Connor_

Hank blearily read the note three times before it occurred to him to look _under_ the note to see what the hell the kid was talking about. Two small boxes; a new fangled phone, and a wireless ... something that looked like those bluetooth headsets of yesteryear. Connor was going to try dragging him kicking and screaming into the modern era, wasn't he?

Still, it was a sweet gift. Even if it just brought back and highlighted some of his thoughts of yesterday. The headset he had no idea about, but he'd seen ads for phones like this, and the gussied up ones could run more than a grand, though he doubted those were available in airports.

Besides, Connor wouldn't buy a thousand plus dollar phone for someone he'd known barely a week? Someone he'd already paid twenty thousand dollars for a date with? _Fuck_.

Hank finally shoved everything into a drawer and forced himself to get some coffee and get to work.

Around noon he manned up and texted Connor _'didn't call yesterday, will explain tonight'_ he didn't want to but maybe his little problem would be enough to chase him off.

When he finally clocked out for the evening, he checked his phone again. _'everything okay?'_ from Connor. _'on my way home now okay to call?'_ he sent back.

He stopped at Chicken Feed for a meal to go, then got home, setting the package and food on the coffee table before going to change. Settling on the couch revealed a text from Connor that he'd call in half an hour, sent ten minutes ago. Gave him time to eat.

Hank was just drying his hands after dinner when the phone rang. Seeing who it was, he picked it up. "Was it necessary to underline 'so old' twice?" Connor's laugh settled him, even in light of the conversation he knew they had to have.

"It really was. I was asking the gentleman at the phone place if anything would work with it, and he had to look it up. Not as in he wasn't sure if that model took anything he had. He hadn't even heard of it before."

"I don't think an airport emergency phone sales guy is the best test of how widely known something is."

"I didn't buy them at the airport. I bought them yesterday at the mall and I was hoping to try and sweet talk you into coming over so I could set it all up for you."

"I ... that's sweet," he admitted quietly. "Before this ... I need to tell you why I didn't call," he said, picking at a thread on the hem of his shirt.

"Okay."

"I can't get into the reasons why, not right now. Not on the phone. But I got drunk. It's a pretty common occurrence with me, when I'm alone. I'm pretty much usually either drinking or hungover."

"You seemed fine when we met. And on Wednesday."

"Jeff caught me before I really got into it on Friday. Saturday, I knew if I showed up drunk it would make the force look bad."

"And Wednesday? If you were intent on scaring me off, showing up staggering drunk might have done it."

To that one, Hank had no real answer. "I don't know," he finally said quietly. "I haven't had a drink today, in case you were wondering."

"That's good to know. And just so you're sure, you're still not scaring me off. I'm not thrilled but I appreciate your telling me. Do you think you're up to me getting your new phone set up or do you want to wait until I'm back? Should be a day or two."

"I think maybe I should wait. Not sure I wanna fuck anything up right now. I should let you get back to whatever." And crawl into a bottle rather than think or feel anymore.

"Nothing to get back to. The problem I'm after this time isn't urgent, there's just a glitch on some of the non-networked systems that could become a problem if I don't take care of it. Tell me about Sumo."

Hank blinked a little at the non sequitur, but Connor apparently already knew the way past most of his defense systems and he found himself talking about his dog for hours. The conversation may have meandered, but it certainly started with Sumo. He really did like talking with Connor. He teased, sure, but Hank found himself teasing back, loving Connor's quiet laugh.

His elbow hurt, then his other ached after he switched ears. He almost reconsidered Connor's offer to talk him through switching to the new one, but he opted against it. Besides, he was currently stretched on his couch with Sumo on his legs.

"Hank?" Connor's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I hate to do this but I need to go, I'm meeting the local manager for dinner to discuss the problem."

"That's fine, Con. I'll probably have a nap, I'm trapped under Sumo so it's not like I've got a choice."

"Never thought I'd be jealous of a dog. Do you want me to call after dinner?"

Hank checked the time, surprised at how late it was. "Nah, think I'm just gonna have a shower and hit the sack. I'll see you when you get back?"

"I look forward to it. Bye, Hank."

After hanging up, Hank lazed for a few minutes before gathering himself enough to nudge Sumo off and put actions to words. He put on fresh boxers and a t-shirt after his shower and climbed into bed, snoring and dreaming of Connor.


	6. The Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor has Hank over for stir fry and setting up his phone.

****

**The Boss**

Thankfully the problem had been a fairly easy fix once he found it, and Connor was back home a day and a half after talking with Hank. He'd offered to go to Hank's place to set up his phone, but Hank had seemed cagey about it. Connor figured he just wasn't ready to let Connor into his place yet, which fit the rest of his reticence.

So he was at his place, doing up a stir fry while he waited for Hank. The dinner was meant to be a surprise and he hoped Hank didn't stop to eat on the way. The more he learned about the older man the more part of him wanted to take care of him in what ways he could. He'd never been especially nurturing before, and wasn't comfortable around kids.

Something about Hank, though. He smiled as he thought about the wrapped little present on his coffee table. It wasn't much, just a phone case, but it was black leather and made specifically for the model of phone he'd gotten Hank. He wanted his boyfriend to have nice things.

His brain caught on that word. Boyfriend. Hank would protest, most likely.  _ 'Too damn old to be anyone's fuckin' boyfriend, Connor' _ but nothing else applied. 'Guys who have been on a few dates' was wordy, they hadn't had sex so lover was out. Boyfriend it was. Besides, both Nines and Markus were already calling him that. Connor apparently talked about him quite a bit.

The stir fry was basically done so when his intercom buzzed, he removed it from the heat, turned off the stove and went to answer it. He managed not to growl at Tom when he informed him that a rather scruffy looking ... individual was attempting to gain access. "I told you I was expecting a visitor, Thomas," he said slowly even as he thumbed a text to Hank on his phone. "I gave you his  **name** ."

" 'Hank Anderson' is a common enough name-" There was a pause and when Tom spoke again, his tone was very different, almost cowed. "I've buzzed Lieutenant Anderson in, he should be up there shortly."

Connor patted down his properly tamed hair, checking himself in the mirror. Only at the last minute did he remember his apron and pull it off, smoothing down the front of his dress shirt just as a sharp knock came at the door.

"Usually when I need my badge to get in, someone's been naughty," Hank said with a faint smile once the door opened and he stepped inside.

Connor considered teasing him about that, suggesting he  **had** been naughty, but he was wary of going too far too fast with Hank. He wanted this to work, it wasn't just about getting off. And he noticed the small bouquet and his heart went pitter pat for a second.

"I, ah, I thought you looked disappointed the other day when I said I was gonna get flowers but didn't. I know it's not usually a guy thing but-" 

Connor cut him off with a brief kiss to his cheek. "They're wonderful, thank you. I love getting flowers, but like you said, it's not a guy thing, which is stupid. Take your coat off, dinner's almost ready." In the kitchen, Connor found a vase, added water, and set the bouquet into it, folding the paper down and setting it on the coffee table. 

"Didn't have to cook for me, Con. Smells good, though." Hank had hung his coat up, and seeing Connor's bare feet, removed his shoes as well, and lingered near the front door, holding the phone and headset boxes in one large hand.

"I had to cook for myself anyway, stir fry's the easiest thing in the world to double up," Connor fussed with the placement of the vase for another moment before straightening. "Table's all set," Mostly as an excuse to touch him, however briefly, Connor took the boxes from Hank and set them on the coffee table before leading him into the eat-in kitchen. He also had a dining room but he didn't want to intimidate Hank, who already seemed wary of his money.

He'd kept the place settings simple, dark green mat with a black underplate, white napkin neatly folded on top, two glasses above the lone fork, a knife on the opposite side of the plate, and a chopstick holder above the plate, not having been sure which Hank would be most comfortable with.

The only differences were his own setting lacking the silverware, and Hank's having a small gift resting on his napkin.

Connor heard the scrape of a chair as he loaded up two plates, setting one in front of Hank, the other on his own setting. he saw Hank's hand fiddling with the gift where it now rested on the table beside him. Connor had poured water and champagne before getting the door. He'd debated the champagne, considering a sparkling cider, but he didn't want to police the other man's drinking.

Sitting down, he nodded at the box. "Do you want to open it?" he asked, not really trying to hide his eagerness. 

Hank licked his lips briefly, reaching for the hand lacquered chopsticks. "Think I'll wait." the smile on his face proved he knew just what he was doing to Connor. Took one to know one indeed. "How was California?"

"Hot and sunny, even this time of year."

They settled into a conversation about California, Connor's various visits there, and Hank's one singular visit there as a kid, specifically Disneyland. Old enough to remember it but too young to really appreciate it at the time. He had just reached that age to be chronically unimpressed with everything.

After dinner, Hank tried to insist on washing the dishes until Connor pointed out the dishwasher disguised to match the cabinets, then took his deliciously rough skinned hand and pulled him into the living room.

Once he sat beside Hank, he thumbed a command on his phone and soft jazz played through an array of artfully hidden speakers.

"Neat trick," Hank chuckled. "You don't have to listen to my old shit, though. Put on something you like."

"I actually do like this. I picked up a few jazz songs after we went to Ruby's and I've been listening to it with my other music. I like it. Maybe we'll go back there sometime."

"You really don't need to spend all this money on me. You've seen where I eat, I'm a cheap fucking date." Hank had the gift resting on his thigh.

Connor mulled that over for a moment. "Would it make you feel better about ... all of this if the next date was on your terms?" He really didn't care either way, he just wanted to spend time with Hank. He'd prefer to do it here, but only because this was his place and he was familiar with it.

"It might. I'm not sure I'll be completely comfortable with this for a while but I'll try." Hank gave him a smile, then reached for his thigh "Now, let me open this or I think you're going to explode." Hank finally began to unwrap the present. 

When he began to ease the tape away like before, Connor couldn't quite bite back a whine. Hank laughed at that before deliberately hooking a finger in a gap and ripping through the expensive paper.

"Oh, that's pretty fuckin' neat," Hank admitted, running his hands over the leather phone case. "Guess it goes to that thing?" He asked, gesturing to the box on the table.

"Yes," Connor snagged the phone and the headset. "Want me to do it or help you through it?"

"Well, if I'm dating a tech head I might as well learn a few things," Hank said with a smile as he snagged the phone.

Connor quickly realized that half of Hank's 'problem with technology' was an almost willful ignorance, an attempt to maintain a crusty old man exterior. Or perhaps it was just that he hadn't caught up to what phones were like  **now** compared to the smartphones of his youth. The other half was his larger fingers which Connor found almost distracting, but was easy enough to fix on the phone itself.

Once Connor worked him through the basics, helping him make the connections between what he was used to and what it was like now, he learned the rest of it fairly quickly. Connor helped switch his number to the new phone, which was something most people needed to call tech support for anyway, but Hank got the headset installed and working pretty much on his own.

"You know I'm gonna lose this thing inside of a week, right?" Hank said as he set the small headset on the table beside his leather-wrapped phone.

"No you won't," Connor said with a confident smile. "Because if you do, I'll just buy you another one, and I know you don't want to give me any more excuses to buy you things."

"I have a feeling you'll just find some other reason," Hank said with a sigh, but he didn't sound upset about it, at least not right now. 

Hank's arm was draped over the back of the couch and without the matter of the phone to distract them, the tension growing between became more palpable. The position Hank was in echoed the way he'd been at the club and Connor wanted to just move closer, even more so than he'd been that night. So he did.

He scooted closer, then leaned in, his head close to Hank's shoulder. "Tell me about this song," He murmured, which is how he'd started it at Ruby's, too. Hank's arm was on his shoulder almost as soon as Connor settled.

"No fucking idea," Hank said softly, his breath warm on Connor's forehead. "Never heard this one before."

Connor chuckled. "So I just got lucky that you knew all the songs at the club?" His voice was low and quiet and unlike before, he turned a little, letting his arm wrap around Hank's midsection.

When he felt a strong hand at his forearm, Connor worried he'd gone to far. Instead, Hank just squeezed and left his hand in place. "Wouldn't call it luck but yeah, they stuck to the pretty popular, well known songs."

"I got to listen to you whisper in my ear for two hours, I would absolutely call that luck."

"You know luck is supposed to be when  _ good  _ things happen, right?" Hank's beard was just brushing the top of Connor's forehead as he spoke.

"And I thought you weren't going to be saying that sort of thing anymore."

"I said I wasn't going to say what a bad idea this was."

Connor pushed himself up turning so he could look at Hank. "Not denigrating yourself falls under that same heading." 

"Oh, does it now? So you're the boss?" Hank asked, eyes sparkling, voice a bit too soft for his words to be any kind of a challenge.

"Yep," Connor agreed, then leaned forward to kiss Hank, his mouth feeling every bit as soft and warm as he'd hoped. The hand in his hair felt even better, sending tingles down his spine.

Hank's other hand slid up Connor's arm to his shoulder, drawing him closer as the kiss deepened. Before he could really think about it, Connor twisted, lifting one leg and was seated in Hank's lap. He slid his hands through Hank's long hair and tipped his head back to claim his mouth, enjoying the way those broad arms wrapped around him. Every inch of Hank's luscious torso was pressed against him and Connor had to stop himself from just grinding down.

Not even sure if they'd get beyond this, Connor wanted to savor every moment, so when he had to come up for air, he didn't let up his attention, just nuzzled his face into Hank's beard. Giving in to an urge he rarely had, Connor gently tugged Hank's head back to give himself more room. His collar was pulled aside and Connor latched on. Hank rocked under him, a groan vibrating his chest as Connor left a deliberate hickey, easily visible if his shirt was open enough, easily concealable if it wasn't.

"Connor-" Hank breathed. 

Worried he'd maybe gone too far, Connor sat up, moving his hips back on hank's lap a little. "Everything okay?" he asked, even as his worry was settled by the lust-drunk look on Hank's face.

Hank's eyes cleared a little and he rested a hand on Connor's neck, fingertips in his hair, thumb resting just behind his ear "I like my hair pulled as much as the next guy, but I'd rather not go bald," he chuckled softly.

Connor was momentarily distracted by both Hank's words, and his hand on his neck just exactly so but after a deep breath he managed to form words. "Sorry. I got carried away." His hand drifted up Hank's chest, nudging the collar of his shirt aside to see the mark he'd left. It was just on the outside of the slightly darker area below his throat where his shirts usually opened to.

"Been a long time since anyone's gotten carried away on my account."

Connor could see the formation of clouds in Hank's eyes, pushing away the pleasure filling them only moments earlier. He cupped his face in both hands and leaned in to kiss him slowly. "Then I've got a lot to make up for," he whispered before kissing him again, more firmly.


	7. The Bugs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cold, some food poisoning, and a frank discussion about Cole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the most angst-heavy chapter, since it deals with Cole's death and Hank's reaction to it.

**The Bugs**

In the end, they never got beyond kissing. Not for any particular reason Hank could think of. He had no problems getting it up, anyway. Nor had Connor from what he'd felt. They weren't interrupted by either of their jobs and after Connor nipped his doubts in the budd after marking him, there hadn't been any more awkward moments.

It just hadn't happened. Maybe they were both holding back. Hank knew he was, still wary, not entirely sure why Connor was into him, and how much that would change once he saw what was under his loud shirts. So he hadn't really let his thoughts or his hands wander below the belt, and neither had Connor.

For all that it was hours of kissing and he'd stroked off in the shower once he got home, the evening had felt satisfying in a way he hadn't felt after a date in a long while.

Which, of course, meant it was time for things to get fucked up.

Between a rash of murders keeping Hank busy, then some glitches in the STERN offices in New York keeping Connor out of the state, all they had for a few weeks were phone calls.

Frequent phone calls, but often brief. There had been one attempt at more-than-talking but it had ended in laughter that felt better than sex usually did anyway.

Connor brought two things back from new york city; a shot glass from the Blue Note jazz club, and a very nasty cold.

Hank had offered to make him soup, but he was asked not to come.  _ 'Not ready for you to see me this sick,' _ Connor had said between coughing fits. He was permitted to call, however, and learned that cough medicine made Connor talk very soft and sweet before it conked him out.

Even after Connor recovered, it was a good week before they could manage anything. Hank had gone to Connor's place at the end of a double shift. He'd gotten to finally hold Connor again for a few minutes, and the kiss had been just as sweet as he remembered. 

While Connor was finishing making dinner, he'd fallen asleep on the couch. Waking up the following morning, he'd been somehow moved from sitting to lying on his side, and covered in a warm, heavy blanket. On the coffee table beside his phone was a small wrapped box and a note. 

_ Hank, _

_ You're very handsome when you're asleep, ask nice and I'll show you some pictures. (You're also very handsome when you're awake, but I don't have any pictures of that - yet!) _

_ Sorry I couldn't make you breakfast but I got called into the office. Dinner is in the blue tupperware next to the milk, if you'd like to take it for lunch. I considered waking you up, but you said you were coming off a double shift so I figured you needed the sleep more than you needed a boyfriend going all Jewish grandmother on you. (And I  _ _ am _ _ the boss, after all!) _

_ I wanted to give you the shot glass in person, but with our luck that won't be for another month. Call me when you wake up, I want to know what you sound like first thing in the morning. _

_ xoxo _

_ Connor _

Hank smiled at the note, feeling better than he had any right to after sleeping on a strange couch. Bosses orders, so he reached for his phone, numbing Connor's number and sitting back on the couch, blanket in his lap. "Should have woken me up," he rumbled when Connor picked up. "Wanted to spend time with you." Hank was still running that word around in his head, boyfriend. It fit but he was too old for it. Even if it did make him feel younger.

"It'll happen," Connor said with his usual confidence. "And hearing your voice like that makes it worth it. Hopefully it's just the first of many times I get your morning voice."

Hank chuckled. "Looking forward to yours, too."

They had chatted for a few more minutes before Connor's work demanded his attention again. Hank stretched, folding the blanket and laying it on the couch. Grabbing the tupperware and the shot glass, he made sure the door was locked as he left.

A shower at home and back to work. Connor was still busy, too busy to text much more than  _ 'can people be arrested for idiocy!?' _ and a frowning emoji when Hank had answered in the negative. That had been followed by his now trademark  _ 'xoxo.' _

After his shift, Hank set the glass beside the little dog statue, then tucked the note into the small wooden box he kept on the mantel as well, along with the other one. It was sappy, saving silly notes from his boyfriend, but Hank was a sentimental guy and wasn't going to apologize for it, or pretend otherwise. At least not to himself or the people who mattered. Which, right now, meant Connor.

That thought, combined with relatively little contact with the other man for several weeks had Hank thinking darker thoughts than usual. Along with drinking, he polished off some of the leftovers in the fridge, since he'd eaten all of Connor's food already, and didn't feel like ordering, or cooking.

His hangover the following day wasn't especially bad, except he was more nauseous than usual. It wasn't until that afternoon, when the stench of a bloated body had him emptying his stomach of what was left of Connor's cooking that he thought something might be a bit off. He hadn't thrown up over a body before, not even as a rookie.

He managed to finish his shift, but Jeff gave him orders not to come back until a doctor certified him fit for duty. Probably thought he was just that drunk.

He'd had to pull over twice on the way home to avoid throwing up in the car, and once home, he grabbed some bread, forcing himself to make toast just to have something in his stomach the next time. A quick text to Connor resulted in a phone call back.

"Normally, I wouldn't be cheerful that you're sick, but I just wrapped things up here, so I can come over-"

"No. Stomach bug, don't want you to get it." He knew it was more likely a touch of food poisoning from spoiled leftovers, but he was already disgusted enough with himself and didn't want Connor to be as well. And he didn't want Connor to see the embarrassingly large stack of beer bottles in and around his recycling. Kept company by two empty whiskey bottles.

"If you let me know your address, I can at least send you some soup or something."

"You're a sneaky fuck, I give you my address, you'll show up here. I'm sick not stup-" He dropped the phone onto the couch and made use of the bucket he kept around for just this reason.

Once he indicated he was back, Connor spoke quietly. "Okay, yes, I was going to do just that but now I won't. I do wish I could help, though."

"Keep me company?" Hank asked, feeling quiet and pathetic as he set the bucket aside. He had just enough coordination to hook the headset over his ear and switch over to it.

"I can do that," Connor's voice was a lot more intimate this way.

Since Hank found it was better to keep his mouth closed, Connor carried the conversation. He told Hank about the Blue Note, one of the execs at the office had a table reserved for a friend's birthday and had invited Connor when he found out he was into Jazz. It ran into his flight but he'd rebooked for a red-eye. The show itself had been very nice, but he liked it more when Hank murmured into his ear the whole time.

Hank had chuckled softly at that, still a little amazed at how much Connor seemed to like the little things between them. It was only when some of his anti nausea medication kicked in and he began to doze that they finally said their goodbyes.

Over the next two days, Hank felt like he threw up his entire body weight before things finally settled down. He woke up in bed and a peek at the bucket showed it to be dry and empty for the first time in a while, so he hadn't woken to throw up.

He couldn't see a doctor until the following day, not one that the DPD would accept, anyway. Instead, he cleaned. He wasn't up for much at a time, still utterly drained from the bug, but he at least got the recycling and the garbage out. Dusting triggered a coughing fit which had him rushing for the toilet but it was a false alarm.

As luck would fucking have it, once Hank was finally in a fit state to interact with humans - doctor's note and everything - Connor was handling another emergency.

Finally, about a week after Hank was back on his feet, Connor texted him at around 2 in the afternoon that he was done with is latest and did Hank have time? For the first time in years, Hank knocked off early. For all that he drunk off the job, and came in late a lot, once he was at the job, he was  **on the job** and didn't slack.

Shivering in the wind, Hank had his hands stuffed in his pockets while he waited outside for Connor's car. He'd offered to take a cab but Connor had insisted on picking him up. Once inside the sleek little number, Hank found out why. Connor thumbed the home button on the autodrive, then leaned over, a hand gripping Hank's shirt to pull him close and kissed him slow and deep. 

By the time it ended, both men were panting softly. "If you fall asleep on me I might have to murder you," Connor said but there was a smile on his pretty lips.

"No murder, I might have to arrest you," Hank promised, a hand on the back of Connor's neck pulling him for another long, tender kiss.

"That mean you'll put me in handcuffs?" Connor chuckled when it ended.

Hank chuckled, surprised at the tingle of desire he felt at the suggestion. "Not usually something I'm into, but you have a way of making me reconsider things."

"That's good to know," Connor smiled, finally sitting back in his own seat instead of crowded into Hank's space. He almost missed it.

"So, what do you usually do in your spare time?" 

"Nope, this is your turn."

"Yeah but we're not doing what I do in my spare time," Hank said quietly, shaking his head. He looked out the window and was almost overcome with memories. Turning, he glanced at Connor who was watching him curiously. "Can you change the destination on that?"

Once Connor was ready, Hank gave his address. He had some things to tell Connor and he was gonna do it in his own home. "Some things you need to know about me," he said, reaching for Connor's soft hand, lacing their fingers even as he turned his gaze to the window once more.

Connor moved closer, resting his head on Hank's shoulder while the car drove.

Hank felt his hand tightening on Connor's and knew it had to be getting painful and forced his grip to relax. 

Finally they pulled up, Connor's car sliding easily into the driveway beside and behind his own shittily parked car. "You can see why I didn't want you to see the place," he murmured as he stepped out, fishing out his key and unlocking the door. 

Sumo came to greet them and Connor's face lit up at the sight of him. That alone made it worth it, Connor was downright beautiful when he was happy. Already on one knee, he was scratching Sumo's ruff and behind his ears. "He's a fucking lousy watchdog but I love him. Sumo, this is Connor, be nice to him." Hank shrugged off his coat, then took Connor's, hanging them both up before gesturing at the couch. "Want anything to drink?"

"I'll take whatever you have." Connor was looking around and while Hank got out his latest bottle of black lamb, he saw him find his little Connor display on the mantel.

After stuffing a photo into his pocket, he snagged a soda for Connor, setting it and the whiskey on the table before moving to stand next to him. "Gonna christen this," he said with a slight smile, picking up the blue note glass.

Hank didn't plan to get drunk, and he hoped Connor trusted him enough to not say anything. And having him here would help, but he couldn't do this without some liquid courage. Sitting on the couch, Connor joined him as he carefully poured a shot, recapping the bottle and setting it back on the table. He downed the shot, feeling it burn as he set the glass down. Without looking at it, he fished out the small framed picture and handed it to Connor. "You asked once if I had kids."

"You said you used to," Connor said softly, gazing at the brown haired young boy. "I didn't know if it meant divorce or-"

"There was a car accident. Wet road, some asshole crossed the divide, smashed right into us." Hank felt his voice thicken and poured another shot. Connor needed to hear this. He deserved to know it if things were going to go any further. Despite his own earlier protests, and some misgivings, Hank  _ wanted  _ things to go further. He finally felt like maybe there could be ... something for him besides darkness. Another shot and he sat back on the couch, keeping his head down, not sure he could see either Cole's face or Connor right now.

Connors hand reached to take Hank's "Hank, you don't have to-"

"I do," Hank pulled his hand away from Connor but only to adjust his hold, lacing their fingers and drawing strength from him. "I was driving. I know I'm not responsible for the crash itself but I'm the reason my son is dead. The driver barely had a fucking scratch, his passenger I think got whiplash." He couldn't hide the anger and didn't try, all he could do was relax his hand when he heard Connor gasp at his grip. When he tried to release his hold to avoid hurting him again, Connor trapped his hand between his. "I was fucked up pretty bad. But Cole ... he barely looked hurt. Just ... asleep." He was back there, feeling like an elephant made of fire was sitting on his chest, watching his son murmur in his sleep. Then they were cutting the car open, lights, warmth, ice in his veins, everything a blur; of faces, voices, beeps, and his own screaming for them to wake his son up.

When he came back to himself, his face was in his hands, shoulders trembling and a firm warm hand moving up and down his spine and across his shoulders with another resting on his arm. He wiped his eyes, taking the tissue when Connor offered one.

Connor heard about how when Hank woke up, his ex wife was outside his room, he could hear her screaming, blaming him, the hospital, god for Cole being dead. That had been how he found out, that shrill voice and ' _ don't tell me to calm down, my son his dead! _ '

Next time he woke up, Jeff was asleep in a chair, looking almost as bad as Hank felt. He didn't realize Hank knew and was ramping up to telling him about Cole. Hank had tried to deny it, he was only sleeping, he hadn't been hurt, not really. It had taken a doctor, an older woman with a calm, soothing voice to carefully explain the nature and extent of Cole's injuries in a way his pain-and-narcotic fogged mind could grasp onto.

Checking himself out of the hospital, he'd gone to the funeral against medical advice, knowing he needed to see him one more time, to feel his tiny cold hand before he would know with certainty that it was real, that he was gone. In the end, he wound up popping a few stitches and was back in the hospital only a few hours after his son was laid to rest. 

A week later he was released again. Out of the hospital, but not fit enough to work, Hank had been left alone in a house full of memories, echoes of a son he no longer had. Jeff came by when he could but he was a police Captain and didn't have a lot of time. Hank hadn't really had any other friends. His friends had been the kind of friends you had as a couple, and when you split, they went with one side or the other, and most of them had gone with Ivy. The rest had just fallen away.

The painkillers only helped with the physical pain, doing nothing to numb the raw wound of his emotions, so he'd started drinking. 

"And I haven't really stopped," he said into the quiet room, part of him amazed that Connor was still here. Hank had talked for hours, the first time he'd actually told anyone the whole thing.

Most people he'd worked with knew about Cole, he'd been the sort of father to have a picture on his desk. Some had even gone to the funeral, showing support for one of their own. 

"I'd talked his mother into letting him skip school on Thursday and Friday, so I could have him for four whole days, since I managed to get the time. I've got some cousins up in Canada and it was Thanksgiving there, thought it would be nice for him to meet some of my family, spend a few days. We barely even made it out of the city. If I hadn't taken him early-"

"That doesn't make it your fault, Hank," Connor's quiet voice broke through his swirling thoughts. "Not at all."

It grounded him a little. Realizing Connor was still - or again, Hank wasn't sure - holding his hand, he squeezed it and finally looked at him for the first time in hours. Connor's eyes were a bit red, too. "It's ... good to hear that," he said quietly. He wasn't entirely sure he believed it, but it was nice to hear someone didn't blame him. Ivy sure as fuck still did.

"I'll say it as much as you need to hear it," Connor promised, bringing their joined hands up and pressing a kiss to hank's thumb.

"You sure you wanna sign on for this, Con?" He asked, wanting to give him one more chance. Not that he could stop him from leaving later but if he stayed now, Hank would really try to make it work. The idea of losing Connor made his chest tighten but he was already too hollowed out to even sniffle right now.

"I had a feeling you'd lost someone pretty much right from the start. I've been trying to avoid the topic of kids in general until you were ready. I appreciate your telling me, about everything." Hank didn't realize Connor was still holding the photo until he set it - face down - on the table. Then he took Hank's hands in both of his. "And I absolutely want to sign on for this. None of this changes how I feel about you. It doesn't make me like you less, not even the drinking."

Hank knew he was staring but he couldn't help it. How the fuck did he get this lucky? He was still gonna fuck this up, he knew it, but the fact that he would even have it to mess up is more than he ever figured he'd be getting.

His life had stopped when his son died. Connor seemed to have made it his mission in life to jump start it.


	8. The Ex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys go shopping, and Hank's ex-wife makes an appearance.

**The Ex**

Perhaps to get a break from the emotional tension, or just to get out of the house, they walked Sumo to a nearby dog park, something Connor had never actually done before. Even his friends growing up who'd had dogs generally didn't walk them themselves, either servants did or they just hired a dog walker. And those dogs were either those tiny yappy things, or more majestic, sleeker breeds like greyhounds. The fact that Hank's chosen and clearly beloved pet was a big shaggy rough-and-scary-looking beast with soft insides was a perfect match for Hank - a big shaggy, rough-and-scary-looking beast with soft insides. 

Soft outsides, too, Connor thought with a smile, recalling Hank's soft torso against his firmer one the night they'd kissed. Made out on his couch. His hugs, too, that softness, but firm muscle under it. Between all their missed connections and conversations, it had been a while since Connor had been able to really appreciate Hank's body. The body that was currently pressed against him as they sat on a chilly bench watching Sumo play with some of the other dogs. Hank's arm was around the back of the bench, hand flopped forward, bracketing Connor somewhat.

Watching Hank's face, he could see him trying not to show how chilled he was getting and Connor knew what his next present was going to be. "Come on, I know what I want to do with the evening," Connor said with a smile, pressing a kiss to Hank's cheek before he stood.

They walked back, arm in arm, this time Connor holding the leash, Hank murmuring instructions as they walked. When to keep him close, when to let him have more lead. How to turn his hand to wrap the leash just so to shorten it. The lesson thrilled him, the idea that Hank had maybe finally accepted that Connor was serious about sticking around.

Once inside the house, Connor unhooked Sumo and told him what a good boy he was before he stood, "When was the last time you got a new coat?" he asked quietly, not yet taking his own off.

"Couple years. Think we each got one for Christmas when Cole was a few months old." He smiled sadly for a second, then his eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Why?"

"I think you need a new coat. Maybe something longer, warmer." And paid for by him, the idea of Hank wearing something Connor gave him every day was more appealing than it had any right to be. 

Hank crossed his arms over his chest and regarded Connor for several moments and the younger man could hear the gears ticking in his mind. "If I say no, that the coat I have now is fine, I'm gonna show up at work tomorrow to a big box on my desk, aren't I?"

Connor pursed his lips trying not to smile too much. "Well, now that I know where you live I would just bring it over," he admitted. "And you would wear it, because you're not the type to waste money, and not wearing a new coat would be a waste."

"What if I just gave it to charity?" Even as he spoke Hank's shoulders were relaxing, whether in defeat or comfort Connor didn't know.

"You wouldn't do that either, because you know it would hurt my feelings. So, either we go to the mall now and pick out a new coat for you together, or I come by tomorrow with a long beige camel hair coat that screams 'I have no personality' and would therefore clash horribly with ... every shirt you own, I'm guessing." Connor smiled sweetly and reached for Hank's arms, unwinding them with ease as if to show off the bold colored print.

Aside from the practical desire to have a warm boyfriend, and the mildly sexual want to wrap him in something Connor paid for, Connor also wanted to keep Hank out of the house for a little while longer. Give him some emotional space after such an intense and intimate conversation.

Hank tried to scowl but it only seemed to work on one part of his face at a time. If he narrowed his eyes, his lips were curving into a smile, and when he tightened his lips, his eyes relaxed and finally he threw up his hands. "I can't fucking win," he grumbled, reaching for the coat he'd hung up only moments earlier. "Sumo, be good."

In the car, Connor was soothed a little when Hank let him take his hand, glad he hadn't really upset him. "Thanks for letting me do this," he said.

"You really do not need to be spending money on me, Connor. It's not like I'm gonna stop liking you if you aren't buying me things."

Connor blinked as what Hank said slotted into place in his mind. "Is what what you think I'm doing?" He was more curious than upset and he hoped the fact that he was still holding Hank's hand would convey that. "I'm not trying to ... buy your affection. And I'm not buying you things because I don't have anything else to offer." Connor took a moment, trying to actually think about why he bought things in a way that he could explain. That wouldn't make him sound like an arrogant dickhead. 

Thankfully Hank seemed willing to listen, giving Connor's hand a squeeze.

"Some of this is going to sound ... bad, probably but I hope you can bear with me. The money, the actual dollar value of what I buy doesn't matter. Most of the time it doesn't even register. Like .. I guess when you buy a burger at Chicken Feed, you don't think about how many pennies, you just know you have enough." Hank gave a reluctant shrugging nod and Connor continued. "The money doesn't matter, it's the ... " He sighed, the words dancing across his mind and he wasn't sure if they would comfort Hank or not. "I like the idea of taking care of you," he finally half whispered. He wasn't sure how he wanted Hank to take that, he wasn't even entirely sure how he even meant it. 

"I don't need taking care of," Hank said quietly and Connor instinctively squeezed his hand, worried it was about to be snatched away.

"I know you don’t," he said when it wasn't, his heart racing. "I don't want to because I think you need it or that you can't do things yourself, or that you're helpless or anything. I want to take care of you because ..." he shrugged helplessly. "Because I want to. It makes me feel warm inside when you smile because of something I did or said. And while I would love talking to you no matter what, I love that we do a lot of it on a phone I bought you, because it means- it means I'm with you, and I like that."

As Connor talked, not sure he was even making sense, Hank slowly relaxed and finally nodded slightly. "I think I can understand that. I just, sometimes it reminds me that I can't do the same for you, and it's just another thing that you'll find lacking about me after a while."

Connor drew their still joined hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to Hank’s face before uncurling his fingers and pressing his palm to Conor's cheek. "I promise, if I ever find something lacking, we'll talk. Until then, you can just assume that I'm getting everything I want out of you."

Hank gave a soft snort "And I'm not even putting out yet." His eyes crinkled as he said it.

Connor's laugh was almost giddy with relief and he leaned over, bracing his weight on the back of the seat as he kissed Hank slowly. He only stopped when their ride did.

In the mall, Connor knew exactly where he wanted to take Hank and unabashedly laced their fingers together as he guided him there. At one point, there was a tug and he turned back, seeing Hank's gaze lingering in a clothing store. Then he saw why. "We can come back after we get you a coat," He promised, drawing Hank away from the brightly patterned shirts on display.

Once in the winter wear store, most coats were rejected out of hand because they were too bulky, too lightweight, the wrong color, or just didn't suit either of their tastes. After trying on half a dozen that were either too small in the shoulder or wouldn't close, Connor was ready to try the big and tall store - since Hank was deliciously both. "One more," he asked, finding a larger size of one that had  _ almost  _ fit and potentially looked very good.

Hank shrugged into it with a grumpy sigh, then turned to face the full length mirror as it settled onto his frame. While Hank fussed, Connor just ... admired. The shoulders were broad and he watched Hank stretch and wrap his arms around himself, testing the pull and give of the garment. It apparently met with his approval because he started to button it and Connor bit his lip. It had just enough room in the front that Hank could put his hands in his pockets without ruining the line of the coat. It buttoned well, hung down to his mid thigh, the sleeves were just right. Everything about it, including the man wearing it, was gorgeous. "I take it you like this one?" Hank asked, catching the look on Connor's face.

Connor gave a nod, not trusting his voice beyond a slightly high pitched 'uh-huh' as he stepped forward. Reaching around, he fussed with the collar, smoothing out a crease in the back until it lay perfectly. "Let me get it for you, please?" He knew they'd already decided but he very much wanted to see Hank in this coat every day from now on.

"When you look at me like that, I don't think I can say no," Hank admitted, hands resting on Connor's waist. 

One hand on his shoulder, his other hand slid down to Hank's chest as Connor leaned in for a kiss.

"We have matching gloves," the chirpy sales girl said just as their lips were about to meet.

Taking the hint, Connor drew back, smoothing down the front of the coat. "You might not have gloves his size," he admitted, enjoying Hank's every so faint flush at the implication.

They did actually have them in his size, and Connor got him a few pairs. "Everyone loses their gloves, if it makes you feel better I'll keep the spares at my place."

Hank took the coat off long enough for the girl to remove all the security devices, then ring it up along with three pairs of gloves. Connor noticed Hank turned and coughed when the girl gave the total, then scribbled his name on the receipt, grabbed the bag in one hand, Hank’s hand in the other and headed out. Just outside, Connor pocketed the receipt and had Hank put on his new coat, dropping the other into the bag.

He left it open but Connor fiddled with the collar, mostly an excuse to stand unsociably close to him for a moment. "Since you let me get you this, I'll get you some shirts, too."

"I don't think that's how it's supposed to go," Hank chuckled. "But yes, I'd like to at least go look."

In the shirt store, Connor learned that Hank had built his collection up over several decades, buying himself a good shirt maybe two or three times a year. And none at all in the last few years, for reasons that went unsaid.

Watching Hank flip through the rack, Connor saw he wasn't just looking at the patterns. He fingered the material, looked at the collar and how it lay, checked the pockets, looked at the length of the sleeves and the garment itself, how well the buttons matched. He didn't say any of this, Connor just saw the way his fingers moved over each shirt he pulled out of the rack for a better look.

All Connor offered in the way of commentary was if he liked a pattern particularly, or how he thought it would go with his eyes. He kept largely quiet because he worried just a little that he was close to making Hank wary again. The other reason was because Hank looked very much like a man who knew what he was looking for and that was an extremely good look on him. 

In the end, Hank had a small pile of six shirts to try on. Connor did his best not to bounce nervously while he did, Hank's jacket draped across his lap, imagining Hank's broad chest as he buttoned up each shirt with those big hands. When he came out, he had five in one hand, and one in the other. Connor worried that he was only getting one when Hank held it up "This one doesn't fit, the others are fine. Help me narrow it down?"

"Nope." Connor draped the coat over Hank's arm, snagged the five shirts, picked up the bag from the coat store and strode to the counter. By the time Hank caught up with him, two had already been dehangerered and de-securitied. "I'm the boss," he turned and said to Hank before he could protest, his card already on the counter.

"You're a brat is what you are," Hank grumbled, then his gaze softened. "Thank you. With all my bitching I probably haven't said that enough."

Connor smiled, not even having realized that but he very much liked hearing it. "You're more than welcome, baby," he said with a smile, giving Hank's hand a squeeze. "You can wait outside if you want," he offered gently, knowing Hank might be wary of the price.

"I'm actually comfortable with the price of these, I'm just not used to buying so many at once," he admitted. "It'll be nice to have a few more in rotation."

From there, they more or less meandered. When they passed the music store, Connor told Hank it was where he got the big jazz collection. They went inside and Hank flipped through some of the used vinyl in the back, and with prodding, the newer stuff in the jazz and heavy metal sections. Nothing really caught his eye and they left empty handed.

They were just debating food court (Hank) or a restaurant (Connor) for dinner when a high pitched voice stopped Hank dead in his tracks.

"Henry?"

Connor could see him take a deep breath and given Hank's description of her voice alone, and his reaction, he knew just who it was. 

Hank unlaced their hands and both men turned. Transferring his bags, his heavy arm came down around Connor's shoulder. "Ivy," he growled out.

"And who's this?" Her voice and gaze showed clear interest in defiance of Hank's possessive arm.

Connor lifted his left hand to take Hank's draped over his shoulder, just holding it as he offered his right. "Connor Mann, you must be Hank's ex-wife," he said smoothly, very carefully not emphasizing the 'ex'. 

She held her hand out, fingers down and Connor didn't miss the wedding band or the large rock as she gave his fingers a brief ghost of a squeeze, dropping her hand once she was satisfied Hank had seen it.

"You on number four now, Ive, or is he five?"

"Still Philip," Ivy said through clenched teeth.

"Huh, I was sure I heard something about you and Korey a year or so back."

Connor had to bite his cheek to keep from smiling at the way her face went red. Then she drew herself up "Looks like you're finally getting what you want, pervert." She hissed the words at Hank, gave Connor a disgusted look, then stormed off into the crowd. 

Connor could feel Hank taking another slow, deep breath, arm tense across his shoulders. "Let's go home," he said quietly. His arm wrapped around Hank's waist, suspecting they had to talk but knowing here wasn't the place. It didn't seem like Hank to get that upset, but he was probably still raw from talking about Cole.

"Your place okay?" Hank asked quietly giving Connor's shoulder a squeeze. "Not sure I can deal with my place after this afternoon. Not-not right now."

They piled into the car and Hank was already looking better. "Do you want to get something to eat on the way home?" 

Hank took a breath filled his cheeks and shook his head as he puffed out a breath. "Can't think of food right now. Bitch does things to my appetite," he growled. "You caught what she said."

"We can talk when we get home, if you prefer," Connor offered, taking Hank's hand, smiling when he pulled him closer, arms around his shoulder again.

"Didn't figure we'd be having it ... tonight but yeah, "It's a conversation we need to have. You need to know why she said what she did.”

From Hank's tone, he wasn't looking forward to it.


	9. The Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find out why Hank is divorced, then Connor makes it all better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mentions of homophobia in Hank's past.

**The Sex**

It wasn't a big deal. Hank knew it wasn't. But he was still raw from earlier, and seeing Ivy like that, after being so-after being  _ happy _ and then her saying that. Like he really was some dirty minded pervert. He liked what he liked, and he wasn't going to be ashamed of it. He was mostly upset that Connor had had to see that. See how she was, know that he'd been married to her once, that he'd loved her once. 

By the time they got to Connor's place, he almost felt like himself again, even if he couldn't make his face show it. They slipped inside, Connor keying in the security code as Hank hung up his coat and toed off his shoes. By mutual accord, they settled on the couch. When Connor offered a drink, Hank managed a smile, then shook his head.

"I'm just sorry you had to see that," Hank said, sitting back, arm over the back of the couch. "I'm not proud of ... how I react to her. And seeing her today - it was just one more bump in the emotional fucking roller coaster."

Connor nodded. "I've known her for two seconds and I don't like her either," he said with a smile, which Hank mirrored.

"You know we were divorced before ... everything else fell apart for me. I didn't realize what a deeply conservative crowd we'd gathered around us until the marriage ended and most of our friends sided with her." Hank sighed. "Cole was ... maybe a year old? We'd left him with her parents, went to have a little weekend away, first time alone since he'd been born. Part of the problem, looking back, is we'd really only known each other for a few months when she got pregnant. It was a bad marriage from the start but we were trying. At least I was."

"You  _ can  _ be very stubborn," Connor said with a smile and Hank laughed softly, glad he seemed to be understanding.

"You might have noticed she was younger than me."

"She looks my age." 

"She  _ was  _ your age ten years ago. Got lucky with Phillip, he works for a plastic surgeon and he does work for her at a discount."

"Who's Korey?"

"Ah, just some prick I heard she was messing around with. Anyway, little vacation, some time away from the baby. We got talking, ideas to spice things up a little, keep the spark alive. She suggested her being on top. I ... Maybe I'd been missing my old habits too long, or I just thought she was bolder than I'd assumed, but I took it the wrong way. She was thinking reverse cowgirl or some shit, and I was thinking pegging. Once she realized what I'd been thinking - because of course she didn't know what 'pegging' fucking was - she stormed out. Dressed and stormed out. I figured she'd gone for a walk. I ordered up some room service, her favorites that the menu had as a kind of peace offering. It gets up there, she's still not back."

"She took the car and went home, didn't she?"

"She fuckin' grabbed my wallet, too. Wanted me as humiliated as possible. I called Jeff, asked him to come get me in the morning, since I already had the room for the night. Luckily he got wind of what was happening from his wife, so he knew better to come get me that night. Kim was never in Ivy's crowd directly but they have a few people in common. She'd heard through the glory of the schadenfreude grapevine that Ivy found out her husband was a pervert - and a few other unsavory fuckin' words - and she was trying to get the locks changed before I got home, figuring I'd be stuck a little while." Hank sighed, feeling better now that it was mostly all out, and that Connor didn't seemed bothered by his proclivities. That was the only problem he generally ran into. His taste in men - slim little things like Connor - ran directly counter to what he generally liked in bed, which was to be on the receiving end of a good dicking down.

"All of this because you're ... because you bottom sometimes? Seriously?"

"I think if I hadn't been a cop, she would have tried to have me arrested on some fucking charges or other. She did try to sue for full custody, no visitation. Thankfully the judge was a little more open minded than she was. Ivy had zero problems telling anyone who listened that her ex liked to take it up the ass."

"Did that cause you any problems?" Connor's hand was warm on his shoulder and he found it soothing.

"Not nearly as much as she would have liked. First, before she came along, the fact that I was bi was no big secret. I was a little surprised she didn't know. Maybe she did, and thought I'd been cured by the power of pussy and fatherhood."

Connor snorted at that. "I'm guessing she didn't get what she wanted in the divorce?"

"Not hardly anything. Her parents actually had money - not  **you** money," he gestured at Connor with a chuckle. "But 'your ex husband, who is an underpaid police officer, doesn't have to pay alimony or child support since you live in a five bedroom house with your parents' money. I got very lucky with the judge, honestly. I still send her and her wife a christmas card every year," he said with a smirk.

Connor laughed outright at that and Hank savored the sound. "Oh, that's rich."

"It really was. Ivy kept trying to push the pervert button, but eventually she realized that only her personal cadre of sycophants were on her side. The judge told her that if she kept petitioning to deny me access to Cole, she would have no choice but to award  **me** full custody. Now, unfortunately, the nature of my job, the hours I keep, I ... didn't look like a viable full time single parent. So in the end, she had him during the week, for school, and fuck if she didn't move as far away from me as she was legally permitted to do, and I got him on the weekends. She even tried to play the  _ 'well I'm not sure if he's the father' _ card, but I actually had that one beat already. When Cole was born, one of my cousins gave me a gift card for those DNA kits, see where you're from and all that?"

"Yeah, I had that done, it was neat."

"I had it done for Cole and me. He's mine, no ifs ands or buts. When I pulled that out, she finally had to give up that she couldn't pry me out of his life. Thankfully, the judge mandated monthly psych visits for all three of us, and if she was found to be intentionally poisoning him against me, she'd have problems. She'd started to mellow a little, by the time he was three, we could actually be in the same room for half an hour without getting nasty. Even being actively civil."

"I think I can guess when that changed."

"She blames me. Always will. None of this stopped her from moving on though. I was first, Phillip is number four."

"Ouch." Connor moved closer and Hank let him, wrapping his arm around him.

"So, now that you know I'm a catcher more than a pitcher, you still okay with this?" If he wasn't, Hank hoped he'd say so. The last thing he wanted was either of them stuck in a relationship that wasn't satisfying.

Connor licked his lips, giving Hank an almost come hither look. "I need to buy you a catcher's mitt, now," he murmured.

Hank was about to laugh but Connor's mouth stopped him. He wasn't sure he was up for anything else after such an emotional day, but damn if his lips didn't feel good. "I take that as a yes," he murmured, hand sliding through Connor's soft curls.

"That is absolutely a yes. It's actually a problem I've had in the past. Guys, especially older guys, look at me and all they see is a pretty little bottom. The intense contrast between Nines and I doesn't help."

"Well, you do  _ have  _ a pretty little bottom," Hank pointed out with a chuckle, almost giddy with relief.

"How do you know, you haven't seen it yet," Connor countered.

"Your pants told me so."

"Funny, your pants told me  _ you've _ got a great ass, too."

"Hah!" Before he could protest that, Connor kissed him again.

"Now," Connor murmured when he drew back. "Is there anything else we might need to discuss before we can really settle into the relationship?"

"Let's see," Hank began to tick off on his fingers. "Cole, Ivy, bottom, Jeff and Sumo are my only friends, and I'm a drunk. That about covers it."

"I take exception to part of that. You've got me, now, too,"

"Fair point. Jeff, Sumo, and you are my only friends."

Before either of them could say anything, Hank's stomach gave a grumble and he sighed. "Appetite's back," He said with a chuckle. He was also genuinely feeling better, Connor had that fucking effect on him.

Since they didn't want to leave, Hank suggested ordering in. Connor said Thomas was on duty tonight, and he was worse about delivery rabble than he was about handsome scruffy police officers. "We'd have to go downstairs anyway, and I already took my shoes off."

"I don't want you to have to cook," Hank admitted. 

"I like cooking. I especially like cooking for you. You can help if you want?"

They wound up making shrimp linguine, since Connor had some frozen shrimp. Because of course he fucking did. And not Gorton's or anything either, this looked like the shit that was flash frozen out at sea, fresh as you could get without actually owning a shrimp boat.

Still, it was very good and Hank was nicely satisfied by the time they finished. 

They spent some time on the couch, just talking, quiet jazz in the background. Around midnight, Hank realized he had to be getting home. "I gotta feed Sumo and let him out back." 

Hank offered to take a cab, Connor insisted on driving him. When they pulled into his driveway - and not up to the curb, Hank noticed - he ran his hands over his thighs and asked if Connor wanted to come in, neither having any doubts about what he was really asking.

Inside, Connor offered to get Sumo's food ready while Hank let him out into the back yard. By the time he returned, Connor was rinsing the empty dog food can and all of Sumo's bowls were topped up. 

Unaware of the tension growing between the humans, Sumo scarfed down his wet food, chased it with a few laps of water, then went to flop by his radiator.

Hank stepped up to Connor as he dried his hands, bracing each hand on the sink behind him before he kissed Connor, slow and tender, then more deeply.

Connor's arms wrapped around him, long fingers squeezing at his sides, his back, then down to his ass, pulling his hips closer. 

Growling softly, Hank pressed closer to Connor, then drew back from their kiss, nipping his lips gently. "Not gonna suck you off in front of the dog," Hank growled before pulling back. He led Connor to his bedroom, not caring that the bed was messy or there were some clothes strewn around.

What he cared about was getting the door closed and Connor partially naked. The middle part, specifically. Pulling him in for a kiss, he pushed Connor back against the door, kissing him until he was breathless. Once he had to come up for air, he slid down onto his knees, reaching for Connor's belt. Like riding a fuckng bike, he got his belt and pants open quickly, even after years of abstinence. Hooking his fingers into his pants and underwear, he pulled forward slightly and down, leaving Connor's pants and underwear gathered mid thigh in a single powerful movement. Plenty low enough for Hank's purposes. 

Keeping his touch light to start, he cupped Connor's nicely sized cock and gently nuzzled his beard against it. The strangled keening sound that came from Connor, along with the buck of his hips made him do it again. Soon a hand was in his hair, another on his shoulder and Hank chuckled softly. "Can pull my hair if you want," And he really hoped Connor wanted. He nuzzled his length again, then began to lap at the tip.

Connor's hand fisted at the back of Hank's head, forcing his gaze up and his cock throbbed at the tender manhandling. His other hand came down to caress Hank's cheek and he nuzzled into the touch, mouth opening to draw in Connor's thumb and give it a gentle suck. He enjoyed sucking cocks, especially the ones that he planned to have fuck him, like shaking hands before a big meeting. 

Lifting his hand away, Connor kept ahold of Hank's head, tightening his grip when Hank gave an experimental tug. His slim fingered hand wrapped around his cock and he rubbed the head on Hank's face, streaking precome over his cheeks and in his beard and then finally,  _ finally  _ into his fucking mouth. Closing his lips, Hank sucked hard. He tried to push forward, struggling against the grip on his hair until Connor finally eased his grip and let Hank have what he wanted.

Hank sucked eagerly, their moans filling the room. Connor fisted both hands in the sides of his head, pulling his hair but not guiding him and Hank had to reach down to free his own cock or he'd wind up coming in his jeans like a fucking teenager.

Unsure if he even still could, Hank opened his jaw a bit more and pushed forward, trying to swallow Connor into his throat. It took a few tries but he managed it, pushing his nose against that taut tummy of his for a moment. Eyes watering by the time he pulled off, he braved a look up at Connor who looked as blissed out as he could have hoped.

Drawing back so just the head was in his mouth, Hank curled his lips inward, making sure his beard and moustache brushed against Connor's shaft as he took him down again. The sensation earned him a gurgle, a sharp tug, and a powerful thrust. 

"Hank," Connor let out a whine when Hank kept exploring, taking his time with the thick cock that would be the first one in his ass in years.

"This pretty thing's gonna split my ass open soon," Hank rumbled. "Least I can do is show him a good time first." Still, he took the hint and began to work faster, keeping is lips sealed and bobbing up and down. He didn't hold as long, but he repeated the motion of sucking Connor down his throat and swallowing, one hand sliding up to tease his balls.

"Hank,  **please,** " Connor whined, begging softly.

Hank drew back, fisting Connor slowly as he teased his balls. "You gonna be good to fuck me later?" he asked, tongue flicking against Connor's copiously oozing slit.

"Yes! Yes I can fuck you later just please!" Connor's hips stuttered forward and Hank chuckled, realizing that was the first time he'd heard Connor swear. 

He swallowed him down again, lips and tongue and hand all working to get him off. Connor groaned out what could have been his name, head thumping against the door as he came. Swallowing every bit, Hank drew back, feeling very much like the cat who got the cream.

Connor's knees gave out and Hank pulled him to straddle his thighs, ignoring his knees protests. "Good to know an old man's still got it," he purred into Connor's neck.

"You definitely have it," Connor assured him, nuzzling his neck slowly. "Even if you didn't before you do now because you sucked it right out of me," he chuckled.

Feeling a lot better about things in general, Hank contented himself with kissing Connor's neck and nuzzling his jaw while Connor seemed to recover. "Anytime you want a repeat, you let me know," he murmured. "Forgot how fucking good that felt."

"Promise I'll let you know," Connor purred, finally lifting his head, still looking supremely satisfied as he kissed Hank, tasting himself in his mouth.

Now it was Hank's turn to groan, his own cock reminding him he hadn't come yet but he tried to ignore it in favor of Connor's kisses.

Connor stood after a few slow kisses, helping Hank to his feet and stepping out of his clothes, which had bunched around his ankles. He unbuttoned Hank's dress shirt while Hank took care of his own pants and belt. The only sticking point was Connor not realizing why Hank kept deflecting the hands that found their way to the hem of his t-shirt. Finally he drew back from the slow, lazy kisses with a puzzled little frown.

"Shirt stays on," Hank murmured. He'd revealed a lot today, he wasn't ready to show Connor the mess the accident had made of his chest. Especially not in light of Connor's creamy-skinned flawless beauty.

"Okay," Connor promised, even giving the hem a tug downward as he leaned in for another kiss.

They made their way into his bed, sprawling on the messy bed covers and just kissing for a while, Connor's hands squeezing and stroking over his shirt, apparently content to take what Hank could give him right now.

Eventually Hank rolled onto his back, Connor over him, settling between his legs. "Got some shit," Hank tried to sit up a little, reaching into the drawer at an odd angle. 

"I got it," Connor let his cock rub against Hank as he leaned forward, having a much better angle at the drawer. He looked over the bottle with a frown. "This is expired."

"Can't be that expired. And if it is, I really don't fucking care, it's all I've got and I'm  **not** waiting any longer for you to fuck me," Hank growled, squirting a few dabs onto his hand and rubbing it between his fingers "It's fine." He drew those same fingers over Connor's cock, enjoying the little thrust his hips gave.

"Okay, yeah, okay," Connor agreed, then he leaned down. "I need to get something from the bathroom first, roll over for me?" he asked after a kiss.

Hank wasn't about to argue "Just across the hall," he said, probably needlessly. Grabbing a few of his pillows he stuffed them under his hips, with another to hold as he parted his legs, realizing just how much he'd missed this. Not just the actual penetration, but everything, trusting someone enough to do this, being open and vulnerable.

It was only the smooth hand on his ass followed by the warm, rough washcloth to his cleft that drew Hank out of his thoughts with a quiet moan. Fuck, he hadn't even thought of that. Hadn't figured he'd be getting a good dicking when he showered that morning, so he hadn't put any extra care into washing there.

Connor was making up for it, though, rubbing the warm, wet cloth over the whole area, and Hank found it relaxing. Then he had just enough time to register two hands on his fat ass before a tongue replaced the washcloth. "Jesus!" he let out a gasp.

"Want me to stop?" Connor asked after another broad lick.

"N-no, just wasn't expecting it, fuck."

"You're not the only one who likes to use their mouth," Conor spoke between varying licks of Hank's ass. "Been told I have an oral fixation."

When that smartass tongue pushed  _ into  _ him Hank lost the ability to speak and just groaned into the pillow. Eventually, warm, wet tongue gave way to warm, slick fingers as Connor worked him open carefully. Probably more than necessary, but since it had been a while since he had taken more than a finger or two, he wasn't about to complain.

Hank felt Connor's fully hard cock rub between his cheeks as he leaned over. "Like this or on your back?" Connor asked, his body draped over Hank's, voice low and rough in his ear.

"Not even sure I can move but I wanna see you," Hank admitted.

They rearranged positions, sheets and blankets falling to the floor as Hank was spread on his back, pillow under his head and legs wide around Connor's slim hips. He pushed himself up, a hand in Connor's hair as he pulled him down for a kiss, tasting his own muskiness, now mingled with the lingering taste of Connor.

Connor's hands were busy as they kissed, squeezing Hank's chest and belly - always through his shirt, not trying to get under it. Down his meaty thighs, shifting to the side so he could fondle Hank's own cock and balls and make him groan, arching up.

Finally,  _ finally  _ after what felt like years, Connor pushed to sit up, kneeling between Hank's lazily spread legs. With a surprising display of strength that took Hank's breath away, Connor took hold of his hips and pulled him forward, up onto his slender thighs and Hank knew he was fucking done for. Everything he'd learned to forget about wanting and Connor was giving it up on a silver platter almost without a thought. More slick was added, and Hank watched eagerly as Connor stroked himself, leaving his thick cock glistening.

"I've thought about this since the day we met," Connor murmured. One hand was pressed into the mattress, the other guiding his cock into Hank's waiting hole as he tried to relax for it.

As Connor eased into him, Hank's hands skimmed over Connor's trim chest, flat tummy and strong shoulders. He enjoyed the contrast of Connor's pale skin against his own weathered hands, and the fact that Connor was allowing, even leaning into his touch had him dizzy. Callused thumbs to pert nipples had Connor groaning and rocking sharply into him. Hank did it again, enjoying the reaction.

Then soft hands took hold of Hank's wrists and he found his hands pinned to the bed on either side of his head and a hungry looking Connor looming over him. "You're being entirely too distracting," Connor murmured.

"Then hurry up and fuck me," Hank rumbled back, carefully clenching his ass around Connor's throbbing cock lodged halfway inside him.

"You're so demanding," Connor huffed, softening the words with a firm kiss, then settling down, his body pressed against Hank's, even as he began to rock, sinking just a bit further in every time. They kept like that for a bit, Connor kissing him, Hank's hands allowed to explore his back and sides as he pushed into Hank slowly.

Finally Connor sat up, hands on Hank's belly as his hips pushed the rest of the way, filling Hank to the brim and making him moan wantonly. "Now?" Hank whined, unafraid of admitting that's  **exactly** what he was fucking doing. "WIll you please, please just fucking fuck me now, Connor?"

"When you ask so pretty," Connor began, slipping one arm under Hank's leg, letting it rest in the crook of his elbow as he leaned forward, opening Hank just that bit more. "Can't say no to you, baby."

He started slowly, but it didn't take him long to find a pace that had Hank wordless with pleasure, just groaning like a slut as Connor began to rail him properly. So hard that Hank had to reach both hands up to keep those powerful hips from bumping his head into the headboard. Every time he tried to speak, Connor's hips twisted deftly, driving his cock just so against his prostate and Hank saw stars.

"You look good like this," Connor gasped out. Hank hadn't realized his shirt was riding up until Connor actually pulled it down and the care in that gesture almost pushed Hank over the edge. "All spread out for me. So tight around me," those slender fingers curled around Hank's cock, giving a few firm tugs as his prostate was deliciously abused and that finally pushed Hank over the edge with a hoarse cry, hips bucking up sharply.

He must have blacked out because the next thing he was aware of was that sliding, empty feeling of a cock withdrawing as his leg was lowered. "I'll be back," Connor murmured against his lips and Hank barely had the strength to murmur an acknowledgement. 

When Connor returned, he pushed Hank's legs up and apart, bracing his feet on the bed before another warm washcloth went to work, cleaning his no doubt oozing hole. That thought made him check and yes, between Connor's once again soft cock and the deep, warm feeling inside him, Connor had come when he did or right after. Still, never hurt to be sure "Did you come?"

"Oh yeah, I came. How could I not after watching you let go?" Finally he deemed Hank clean enough, but he wasn't done yet. He opened Hank's closet like he had every right, and Hank was too fucked out to argue. He found a dark grey t-shirt before coming back to the bed.

"You got your shirt all dirty," he said, sounding very smug as he fingered the spots where Hank's come was already soaking into the lighter grey garment.

"Oops," he mumbled with a smile. "My first good fuck in years, I refuse to apologize."

Connor chuckled and leaned down to kiss him. "I'm going to get us some water," He set the clean t-shirt on the bed next to Hank's hand. Then he leaned in for another kiss before stepping out, closing the door behind him.

It wasn't until Hank had changed - not missing the fact that Connor had left him alone so he could do so without asking - that he realized Connor was still stark naked and he kind of liked that thought. Pretty twink ready to give the neighbors an eyeful, wandering around Hank's house completely starkers.

A light knock and an invite and Connor came back into the room, juggling two glasses as he nudged the door closed. "Thanks for letting me change," Hank murmured, taking the glass he was offered and downing half of it in a few gulps.

"Didn't want you to feel uncomfortable," Connor assured him. One hand resting lightly on Hank's belly, he drank down his water and Hank found himself incredibly distracted by a drop of condensation that slid down his thumb to drip onto his chest and if he hadn't just gotten his brains fucked out, he might be trying to lick it off.

"Don't think I've ever really felt uncomfortable around you," Hank admitted, sitting up enough to finish his glass before setting it aside and flopping down. Connor set his own beside it and with a tug from Hank, settled on his side, tucking against him. "I've been plenty uncomfortable  **because** of you," he specified. "But you ...  **You** -you. your personality always made me comfortable, I think that's part of what scared me at first. I'm not used to ... having anything good," he admitted, hoping he wasn't ruining it now.

"I think I understand what you mean. The only uncomfortable I want to make you is 'I can't sit right because I got railed by my cute boyfriend.'"

Hank laughed, squeezing his arm around Conor's shoulders. "You certainly did that. I think you straight up fucked my brains out for a minute there. I can still hardly move," he turned and nuzzled Connor's hair smiling when he pushed up for a kiss, then settled back down.

"I worried I was going a bit ... hard, especially since you'd been so long without, but you looked so  _ gorgeous  _ like that, and the noises you were making." Connor tucked closer, giving a happy wiggle and Hank laughed.

"Just about fucked me into the headboard, you were perfect. Do, uhm, do you wanna stay?" Hank asked quietly, not thinking Connor was the fuck and run type but he wanted to ask.

"I'd love to," Connor smiled "I think your covers ran for the hills, though." He sat up, looking over the bed that contained four pillows and two men sprawled on a dark blue sheet and nothing else.

"Mmm, think they fell off down thataway," Hank gestured at the foot of the bed.

When Hank sat up to try and get them, Connor pushed him down with a kiss. "I'll get them, you stay there and look gorgeously blissed out." 

"Yes sir, you're the boss," Hank said, hand coming up in a vague salute.

Instead of getting up and walking around the bed like anyone else would have, Connor decided the quickest way was across. That meant straddling Hank in a move that was as sexy as it was unnecessary. Little shit even took the time to kiss Hank, getting his ass squeezed before rolling off on his other side and finally off the bed.

Connor shook out the bedding and threw it over his shoulders like a cape before crawling back into bed, winding up right back on top of Hank, blankets and all as he kissed him again.

After a few more lingering kisses, Hank yawned, the day - and his intense fucking orgasm- catching up to him. They wound up on their sides, Hank as the big spoon, arm around Connor's trim waist, holding him close and nuzzling the back of his neck. "Night, Con," he murmured

Connor had one hand under his pillow, his other draped over Hank's "Night, baby," was the last thing Hank heard before finally nodding off.


	10. The Rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All the rest of the fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this during NaNoWriMo last year, I will not have it sitting around one whole year before it gets posted so here it is.

**The Sugar**

Connor was briefly disoriented as he came awake, knowing instantly he wasn't in his own bed. He nuzzled the soft but scratchy pillow under him and the scent it stirred up brought it all back with a smile.

Hank. He was in Hank's bed, after getting to top him last night, their first time having sex. After he  **begged** Connor to split him open, not just allowing it to indulge the pretty boy. At some point while they slept, the covers had come down, gathered around their waists. Connor realized Hank's shirt had ridden up, revealing part of a faint scar along the side of his belly, the rest of it vanishing up under his shirt. It gave him a peek of what Hank didn't want him to see, and understood why. Scars didn't bother him but it was probably all tied up with his feelings about his son and Connor was more than willing to wait. Hank was amazing, opening up to him more all the time, and Connor felt privileged and lucky to be the one earning that.

Pushing himself up, Connor saw the time and given what Hank had said about his usual shifts, Connor had about an hour to get him ready for work. Wondering if it was too soon to suggest keeping clothes here, Connor gathered up his. He drew the covers up to Hank's chest and crept into the bathroom.

After drying and dressing in yesterday's clothes, Connor had a brief nose through Hank's kitchen. Sumo interrupted, padding over for a morning pet that Connor was more than happy to give him. He also topped up his bowls, then realized he wasn't sure if he got wet food in the morning or not. Deciding to treat him anyway, Connor opened up a can and Sumo was soon in doggie food heaven.

With a general idea of what he had to work with, Connor decided on an omelette. There was nothing to go with it, unfortunately. The bread was stale, but he'd considered toasting it anyway before seeing a greenish blue spot and dropped the whole bag, about a third of a loaf, into the garbage bin.

First thing he did was figure out Hank's coffee machine, and realized the exact point in the process at which Hank had dropped his phone. It was needlessly complicated, especially for someone who usually only ever needed one cup at a time. Probably bought cheap by a newly single cop. On sale.

As he chopped up what he could find for the omelette, Connor considered how mad Hank would be if he got him a Keurig and signed him up for regular deliveries of the cups. Maybe the around-the-globe list, a dozen new flavors a month from all over the world. Or maybe not? Best keep it simple. Just a Keurig and basic coffee cups. Maybe some french vanilla. For Connor when he visited if nothing else.

Smiling at the idea of coming here again, Connor began the omelette just as he heard the bathroom door close. He was just dividing it in two and putting it on fresh plates when Hank came down the hall, already dressed and Connor smiled when he realized it was in one of his shirts from yesterday. Seeing Hank in things he got for him really was a thrill "Breakfast is ready," he said, setting Hank's plate in front of one of the chairs, then pouring him a coffee. He wasn't sure what Hank took in his so he'd found a small jug for the milk and just put the small sugar container on the table along with a spoon. He took both so it wasn't a wasted effort.

"You're entirely too fucking cheerful," Hank grumbled and his morning voice was even better in person than on the phone. The words were softened when he followed it up with a broad hand to Connor's hip pulling him closer, a kiss to his cheek and a rumbled thanks for the coffee being pressed into his hand. "Smells good," he added, giving Connor a little smile.

"The coffee or the eggs?" Connor reluctantly moved away to pour his own coffee and the two of them were soon seated.

"The lover," Hank said before adding an overly generous amount of sugar to his coffee, followed with a splash of milk.

Connor's brain shorted for half a heartbeat, not sure which part of that answer he liked more, that Hank liked the way he smelled, or that he had decidedly upgraded their relationship. "Thank you," he finally said with a smile.

They ate in relative silence for a while, but Connor noticed Hank shifting frequently. "Remember you said last night about wanting your boyfriend to not be able to fucking sit straight?" Hank rumbled.

"I told you, Hank, I'm very good at getting what I want." Even so, Connor had already made a note to pick up a few tubes of medicated cream, since he hadn't been able to find any in Hank's bathroom. It would have helped with the soreness. He also planned for their next liaison to be at his place.

Hank just chuckled and shook his head.

After letting Sumo out once more, then locking the house, Connor offered to drive Hank into work. He pointed out that he might be a bit too distracted to drive and Hank had conceded that he was 'probably fucking right.'

Connor would admit to himself that he felt a deeply possessive thrill when he pulled up to the police station. Hank had leaned in for a kiss, then stepped out of Connor's very expensive car, wearing a new shirt and a very expensive new coat as he strode into the building. Quite a few other officers were around to see it, and Connor saw them noticing.

Going home to shower and change, Connor called Nines, checking if anything had come up. Confirming he had the day to himself barring an emergency, Connor texted to see if Markus was free for lunch. 

He generally wasn't a gossipy sort but Markus was his best friend and knew the problem he had in most relationships. Had even expressed concern more than once that Connor was going to run into the same situation with Hank. Especially as the weeks went by with no actual sex happening. Connor was just so giddy about things he had to tell  _ someone  _ and it was Markus or Nines. And Nines was already giving him grief because he hadn't met Hank yet.

He spent a few hours getting some work done on his game, resisting the urge to give his grizzled cop character a boyfriend. Then he headed to the mall where he'd agreed to meet Markus, and do some shopping.

By the time their late lunch rolled around, Connor had gotten the main things on his list, tucking them discreetly under the table so Markus wouldn't see the bags.

"You look disgustingly happy," Markus said after kissing his cheek in greeting and settling down.

Without going into too much detail, or giving away too much of Hank's personal life, he outlined the day before, ending with dropping him off. "I think all things concerned, I have every right to be disgustingly happy," he finished.

"How's it feel to  _ have  _ a sugar baby instead of  _ being  _ one?" Markus asked before taking a bite of his stuffed mushroom.

Connor choked on his drink at Markus' question. "Excuse me?" He squeaked once his breathing was under control again, doing his best to ignore Markus' barely suppressed laughter.

"Oh, come on, Connor," Markus shook his head with a laugh. "You get off on buying him things. Don't think I didn't see all the bags you have under the table. You buy him things and you screw him, that's textbook sugar baby." 

Connor frowned, recalling their conversation the day before, Hank almost accusing him of buying his affections. Then he straightened, refusing to feel bad about this. "That's not all it is, Markus," he said firmly and his friend had the grace to stop laughing at least.

"I know it's not," Markus said honestly, giving Connor's shoulder an assuring squeeze. "And you've never really been a true sugar baby, I was just teasing, I'm sorry. I'm happy for you. This Hank seems like a nice enough guy, and he makes  _ you  _ happy which is good enough for me." Mismatched eyes were warm and Connor relaxed and nodded.

Connor pretended he didn't hear Markus' mumbling  _ 'he's totally your sugar baby' _ into his drink

By the time dessert was served, Connor had actually come around to the idea. He couldn't think of himself as a daddy in any sense, especially not to a man twenty years his senior. But he could easily think of Hank as his sugar baby. Or his sugar something, anyway. It fit, at least financially. He liked buying things for Hank, for all the reasons he'd told him. He tried to keep things practical, the only gift with no actual use had been the very first, and he smiled thinking how it had pride of place on his mantel.

"So when do I meet him?" Markus asked innocently. Or not so innocently is the spark in his eyes was any indication.

"Not until Nines does," he said with a sigh. "And he's been nagging me about it since I got back from New York."

"Why not bring him to Thanksgiving?" Markus asked. Mostly because he had the biggest house, and a kitchen large enough for everyone to work in, the Manfreds had been hosting Thanksgiving for their extended family-of-friends for years. Servants were given the day off and everyone pitched in to cook and clean.

Connor stared for a minute, realizing just how close they were to the holiday. "I don't know if that's a good idea," he admitted. Hank's entire house could fit inside what Markus called his living room. It would really drive home the financial divide between them. With the death of Carl a few years earlier, it also meant he'd be the oldest person there by a good fifteen or twenty years. "Not sure I want to subject him to all of you guys at once, at least not for the first time. I think it's getting better, but I'm still scared that one misstep, pushing a little too far and he'll bolt. I don't want to risk that, Markus."

"You're really serious about him." Markus looked like he'd only just realized that and Connor sighed.

"I'm really serious about him. I have been for a while, but the closer we get the more I want it to last. At first I just- I liked him. He was different from the type of guy I usually meet. I mean he was attractive, too, but I learned my lesson about that being enough. When I set up his lock screen he was so happy, he kept looking at it all evening."

"You told me. Dog, right?"

"Sumo, yeah. He was kind of standoffish, but not mean. And then the more we talked, when he let himself relax there's almost this other guy under it all. Soft and sweet and with the best smile." Connor sighed, swirling his fork through the remains of his brownie a la mode.

"You've told me all of this, Connor. I just ... Maybe I've been too wrapped up with Simon but I didn't realize just how ... deeply you were taking this."

"I don't know if I'd call it love, yet, but it's definitely the closest thing I've felt."

Markus looked like he wanted to say more, but their coffee arrived just as Connor's phone chirped.

"Back to the trenches?" he asked, seeing Conor's face.

"No. Hank says they just caught a big case and they have to jump so he'll probably be busy tonight." Connor let out a groan and buried his face in his arms, already missing Hank.

"Aww, there, there." Markus rubbed his back sympathetically. "What're you doing the rest of the day?"

"I was going to get some work done on my game and wrap Hank's presents," No point in denying who the stuff was for.

"Come hang at my place for a while."

"No offence, Markus, but the last thing I want is to watch you be all kissy face with your boyfriend when all I want to do is go be kissy face with  _ my  _ boyfriend."

"First, we aren't that bad, second, Simon's actually away, visiting family  _ before  _ the holiday to make up for staying here for thanksgiving so you'd be doing me a favor."

In the end, Connor got both. He stopped by his place long enough to get his laptop and tablets and spent the afternoon and evening in Markus' studio, talking, watching him paint, and getting feedback on his own work for the game. He'd hired Markus to do the work on his very first game, but the tension had almost broken the friendship and they'd agreed never to do that again.

In a stroke of luck, Hank was able to knock off on time a few days later, and suggested they get dinner. They'd kept in touch over the phone and with texts but this would be the first time seeing him since they slept together.

They'd gone back and forth about where on the phone while Hank drove home. Since they couldn't seem to decide, and Connor was feeling selfish of Hank's time, he suggested Hank come over, let Connor cook for him again.

The compromise they reached - since Thomas was  _ not  _ on desk duty tonight - was that Hank would pick up dinner from the pizza place by his house and bring it over to Connor's.

Connor busied himself getting the place ready. Since he kept a tidy place - the word 'fastidious' had come up more than once, as had the word 'prissy' - all he really had to do was change the sheets, just in case he had a chance to get them dirty again. 

He might be overthinking things but he'd gotten a spare toothbrush which now sat alongside his in the holder in the bathroom. Also several washcloths were laid out for after, and he made sure he had a few water bottles in the fridge, also for after. Assuming there was anything to have an after, but he was hoping.

Just as he was laying out one of the new incredibly soft t-shirts he'd gotten for hank, his intercom buzzed.

"Your handsome gentleman friend is on his way up," Judy informed him. "Don't suppose he's single?"

"Sorry, Judes, he's all mine," he couldn't help but grin as he said it.

"Lucky dog!"

Once Hank arrived, deliciously fragrant pizza in hand, they spent a few minutes kissing before settling down to eat. He asked Hank about the case between bites of greasy but tasty pizza.

He was hesitant at first, but when Connor asked again, he told him about it, no doubt leaving out some of the more gistly details but painting a vivid enough picture. When Hank kept rubbing at the side of his neck, almost absently, Connor urged him to turn away from him and began to rub his shoulders and neck. He protested at first, then it dissolved into a groan when just a few rubs at the right spot began to ease the tension.

Once he'd rubbed out the knots in Hank's shoulders and neck, he arranged himself on the couch and drew Hank back against him, close enough for Connor to murmur into his ear when he spoke.

"Nines keeps asking to meet you," he drew his fingers through Hank's hair as he spoke, enjoying the softness of it.

"Should I be worried?" Hank's hand was curled around Connor's where it rested on his chest.

"He's a pussycat. Except where his big brother's love life is concerned. I don't have the best luck with boyfriends. I mentioned the pretty little bottom thing. Part of it comes with having a particular type. Confident older men," he pressed a kiss to Hank's ear at that. "Unfortunately, confident usually translates as arrogant when you ... grow up the way I did."

"I've met a few of that type. Usually before I get to arrest them."

Connor chuckled softly. "My last one was ... a spectacular failure." When he felt Hank's hand tighten and his head turn a little, he tried to reassure him. "He didn't really hurt me, at least not physically. He was just very pushy, got mean when I didn't let him run roughshod over my boundaries. He didn't cross them, but he was clearly displeased that they existed at all, and more so that they applied to him. It just ... He didn't like that  _ I _ had the nerve to break up with  _ him  _ over it. He hated that he didn't have any leverage over me, to keep me under his thumb. I didn't need his money, I wasn't in the closet, and my friends were solid enough to weather and stamp out the rumors he tried to spread about me.

"Sounds like a fuckin' sweetheart." Hank shifted and turned a little, peering back at Conor "I can probably dig up some reason to arrest the fucker."

Connor laughed softly. "I appreciate the offer, Hank, but he's a slippery one, all it would do is make trouble for you." He wouldn't seriously consider it anyway, but the offer made him feel warm.

"Mm. Still, say the word, and I'll have a pair of cuffs with his name on them. What is his name, anway?"

"John Doe, because I know the information you have access too," he chuckled. 

"Connor, are you implying I would use my position as a police lieutenant to run a background check on some asshole my lover used to sleep with?"

"That is exactly what I'm implying." He nuzzled Hank's hair at his grumble of 'probably right', then he wound both arms around his shoulders. "Can you stay tonight?" he asked.

"I may have put out some papers in the kitchen, just in case I didn't get back to let Sumo out."

It was slower this time, less emotionally driven. Or maybe more so, but the emotions were about them this time, not escaping something else. They spent quite a bit of time just kissing on the couch, Hank's weight pressed against Connor.

Once in the bedroom, they undressed slowly, touching and teasing and ho misunderstandings about his shirt.

This time, when Connor sank into him, he leaned down, his chest against Hank's back and whispered into his ear. How easily he opened up, how well he took Connor, how incredible he looked laid out for him. The praise had Hank moaning almost as much as the slow thrusts into him did. 

Connor kept it up, realizing Hank probably didn't hear enough nice little things about himself. He told Hank how much he loved how big he was, made Connor feel safe and warm. How much he loved his hands, reaching up to rub his palm on the back of Hank's hand and lace their fingers as he said that. How his hair was so soft and how pretty he sounded when Connor pulled it. Which of course he had to demonstrate by pulling Hank's head up, then nipped his ear.

Hank bucked against him at that, letting out a needy growl. He loved Hank's eyes, his voice, his beard, his lips,  _ 'and not just because you suck me so well.' _ Hank began rocking back, clenching around him.

Soon Connor couldn't form words himself. One hand braced on the mattress, he drove into Hank while his other reached down. He gripped Hank and stroked in time to his thrusts, not letting himself go until Hank did.

He let himself have a few minutes, warm and sated and boneless, draped around Hank. Once he could move, he eased off and out of Hank. Leaning down, he brushed the hair out of Hank's face with a kiss to his cheek and a promise to be back.

Returning with washcloths and cream, Connor admired his handiwork for a moment before he began to clean. Hank gave a few low groans as he worked but didn't protest. Finally he was as clean as he was getting, and thoroughly medicated and Connor leaned over, giving his ass a light bite before he went to put everything away and grab water bottles.

Hank was on his back, pillows moved, and looking deliciously boneless. Under Connor's gaze, he stretched, back arching, one arm up, the other holding his shirt in place, which reminded Connor of one of his purchases. "I got something for you," he murmured. Grabbing the folded t-shirt, he sat on the bed, facing hank. "It's longer than the ones you have," And softer but he didn't want to make that point.

Hank fingered the shirt, then sat up, kissing Connor lightly. "Thank you," he breathed. "I'll go change."

Connor sprawled on his bed as he watched Hank depart, the bottom curve of his ass just visible under the shirt he had on.

+++++

**The Brother**

Hank didn't really wash, just stepped under a cool spray in Connor's unreasonably large shower to rinse away the sweat, mostly keeping his hair dry. As he dried off, he eyed his chest, seeing a few of the slowly fading scars from the accident. They were a mix of jagged and scalpel straight, some caused by the accident itself, only sewn up, others by the surgeon to access what was inside. The older scars weren't even from the accident, just from being a young hot headed cop who spent too many years relying on his size in a fight.

There was a full length mirror, and for the first time in a long time, hank looked at his whole self, trying to figure out what the fuck Connor saw that he didn't. What Hank saw was a fat belly and torso full of scars. The worst looking of them was actually the least dangerous, a jagged laceration across his chest that bled and scarred and healed ugly but hadn't ever been life threatening. He fingered a thumbnail sized pucker of scar tissue a few inches below his bottom rib. Some part of his or the other car had somehow pierced him there. He felt he'd used up all of the luck in his life and Cole's because it hadn't done more than scrape his organs, not puncturing a single one.

He turned towards the sink and pulled the shirt on, surprised at how soft it was against his skin - he had no idea that all t-shirts were not made more or less equal. As Connor promised, it hung lower than the others, less likely to ride up. 

The mirror over the sink showed him a haggard, worn face with tired eyes. Connor's praise echoed in his head and made him smile a little but Connor was obviously biased. Smitten. Not that Hank wasn't, but Connor was objectively gorgeous. Running a hand through his beard he eyed a few other souvenirs of his crash. He could see them because he knew where to look. Gavin Reed wasn't the only DPD officer with a badly scarred face. Hank was just lucky enough that he could grow a beard over his. According to Connor, his beard looked good, so that was something.

When he finally went back to the bedroom, the first thing he saw was Connor's ass as he bent over, tucking a fresh sheet unter the corner of the mattress. "Fuck, that's a pretty fucking sight."

Connor stood and smiled when he saw Hank in the shirt. "Not as pretty as you are handsome," Connor said, eyes sliding up around his neck as he kissed Hank.

Holding the lithe form, Hank returned the kiss, then slid his hands down to cup that perfect ass. He heard Connor gasp soft as he squeezed. "Perfect fucking handful," he chuckled, feeling better about himself if he could make a pretty thing like Connor make  **that** noise.

"Perfect hands," Connor breathed against his neck.

They eventually settled on the freshly changed bed, Hank groaning at the smooth material against his skin. As much as he didn't want to be spoiled, he could get entirely too used to the luxury of all this. Especially since it came with Connor's warm body tucked under his arm and curled against his chest.

Drawing in a breath, he addressed a question that had been neglected earlier. "Do  **you** want me to meet your brother?" he asked. He'd done the parents thing a few times, but he'd never had to face the scrutiny of someone so much younger than him. If he was four years younger than Connor, he was twenty nine, which  **was** damn near half Hank's age.

Connor's answer was long in coming, but not unexpected. "Yes. Especially with the holidays coming up, I want you to be a part of them." Connor sat a little turning to look at Hank. "If you want to be?"

"Got nothing else to do," He admitted. First Thanksgiving after Cole died, Hank had spent the entire time drinking. Second one, too. Last year, Jeff had showed up at eight in the morning, all but stuffed Hank into some decent clothes and dragged him to his house. This year he at least planned to dress himself before being dragged to Jeff's. Might be changing those plans.

"My friends and I, we get together at Markus' place. We all make dinner together. If someone doesn't want to cook or whatever they get put on prep but everyone helps out. The last few years it's just been the younger crowd, all our parents are either gone or living elsewhere."

"Younger crowd as in ...?" He didn't want to spend the holiday with kids, but Connor didn't like kids, so Hank hoped he meant younger in relation to fifty years old, not thirty.

"Nines is probably the youngest. Nines, me, Markus, if Simon's not there I'll eat my hat."

"Simon is Markus' boyfriend, the reason you had his auction ticket?" At Connor's confirmation, Hank chuckled. "Might have to write him a thank you note. Just the four of you, doesn't sound like much of a crowd?"

"Oh, there's also North, her girlfriend Chloe, Chloe's twin sister Cleoh, probably whoever Cleoh is dating. Kara and Luther who hooked up when they were kids and have been inseparable ever since. Josh, the Jerry's-"

"The Jerrys?"

"Jerome, Jeremiah, and Jeremy. Fertility treatment triplets."

"And they all go by Jerry? Isn't that confusing as fuck?"

"Actually, they only did the we're-all-Jerry thing in high school to mess with the teachers, but calling them 'the Jerry's' stuck. Saying the jerries are coming over is a lot easier than saying "jerome, jere and jem are all coming over."

Hank chuckled. "Okay, I can see that. How easy are they to keep straight these days?"

"Pretty easy, they have different hair. Oh, there's also Josh, Rupert, Ralph, Blue and Traci. Blue and Traci are twins."

"You've got a lot of twins in your crowd. You  _ sure  _ you and Nines aren't?" Hank asked with a teasing little nudge.

"I remember them bringing him home. So many sets of twins because fertility treatments. Markus is a twin, also, fraternal though. His brother lives out in California, I see him sometimes when I'm out there."

"This is gonna be a fun night, won't even be drunk and I'll still be seeing double." Hank shook his head. He knew he'd feel weird being so much older than the others, but he was slowly getting more comfortable being part of Connor's world.

They talked a little more after that, and Connor promised to set up something with Nines before Thanksgiving.

Which is how, exactly one week before Thanksgiving, Hank found himself letting Connor fuss over his hair, pulling it back into a neat little ponytail like the first day they'd met. Hank had suggested it, wanting to try and upgrade his appearance - within reason - for the sake of Connor's brother. That lead to him sitting in a chair in Connor's bathroom while he carefully tied back his hair, leaving some loose to frame his face, Then gelling down the rest to keep it smooth looking. "It looks fine, Connor." He finally reached back, finally stopping Connor's gel covered fingers and drawing them around to his front. "It looks fine," he repeated softly. "You're as nervous about this as I am, aren't you?" he asked quietly.

"I want you to like each other, Hank. I want him to approve of you, and for you to like him."

"I know, I want that too. I'll be on my best behavior, I promise. No swearing, even."

"You can swear, I told him about that."

"Doesn't mean he's gonna be okay with it." He pressed a kiss to Connor's hand just where his thumb net his wrist. "Now come on, I've got a salad to toss."

"This evening goes well, I might let you toss my salad for a change."

"Now there's some fuckin' motivation," Hank laughed.

For this occasion, they were using Connor's dining room, mostly because the eat in kitchen table was more a breakfast nook situation, not big enough for three grown men and their meals. 

Hank had offered to wear one of his suits, Connor insisted on one of his shirts, wanting him to be as relaxed as possible. 

Finishing with the salad, Hank was just washing his hands when Connor's doorbell buzzed. Not the intercom - Nines could apparently bypass the gatekeepers. Quiet voices by the door as Hank took off the apron, hanging it on the hook before drying his hands.

"Lieutenant Anderson," Nines' voice was a deeper, somehow more aggressive version of Connor's own. His handshake was firm without being obnoxiously so. "Niles Mann."

"Niles," Hank repeated, giving a final squeeze before letting go. "Good to finally meet you. Connor talks about you a lot."

"You too, Lieutenant, a great deal in fact."

Hank didn't dare ask if it was all good, he knew it wasn't. Connor didn't tell tales, but Hank knew he'd told his brother about the drinking, and the divorce. And about Cole but not the details of it, mostly, Connor promised, to impress on him not to bring the subject of kids up. "Call me Hank."

Connor's brother quirked an eyebrow at that, and Hank wondered if he'd passed a test, or failed one? This was going to be a long evening.

Dinner itself went surprisingly smoothly, Connor chatting easily, managing to draw them both in. A few pointed questions were tossed Hank's way, and he answered them, he hoped, satisfactorily. At least Niles' stern face didn't get any harder, and maybe he cracked a smile once or twice. 

He could see why Niles was the businessman of the pair. Not even thirty, and Hank would bet on him over any three men twice his age in a boardroom confrontation. Hank was no stranger to intimidation, though, dishing it out, or failing to take it. He met that hard gaze squarely and answered directly, not running or hiding.

After dinner, on the couch, Connor's palm against his, fingers laced and he suspected the real fun was about to begin.

"Connor said I wasn't allowed to grill you. He even pulled older brother rank," Hank swore he could see Connor scowling a little when he said that. Niles pursed his lips slightly and continued. "He is my big brother, and I love and respect him very much. But he's also my  **only** brother. My only family. And he's been hurt by men who have a great deal in common with you. So you can understand I'm a little protective of him."

Connor's hand was getting tighter in his own as Niles spoke. Hank, however, was comforted by the directness. To both soothe Connor and communicate his intent to Niles, he drew Connor's hand closer and wrapped it in both of his. "I've never had a brother. Wasn't ever really close to my family. But I have friends. I had a son." Connor's hand clenched tightly at that and he squeezed back. "I know what it's like to lose everything. So I have some inkling of how you feel, what you're afraid of. I can't promise that I'll  _ never  _ hurt him. Because I'm human, so is he. So are you. But I can promise I'll do my best, to make him happy, to not hurt him." He turned then, meeting Connor's eyes as he finished. "To-to not make either of you regret my being in your life."

Movement caught Hank's eye and he turned to see Niles nodding slightly. "I suppose that's all I can ask. And you do seem to make him very happy. Almost annoyingly so." Hank was familiar enough with Connor's face that he could see the almost-smile on Niles'.

The tension hadn't broken, but it had eased considerably, and the rest of the evening went more more less like dinner had. Genuine conversation mixed with a few pointed questions in Hank's direction. Now there was an understanding, though, at least Hank felt there was. Hank still had to prove himself, but that was all he had to do. It was a tall order, but at least he wouldn't have Niles swooping in constantly, trying to peck them apart.

When Niles left, he asked Connor to talk to him outside for a minute. With nothing else to do, and buzzing with nervous energy, Hank rolled up his sleeves and began to rinse the dinner dishes, loading up the dishwasher. He was leaned over, fussing with the pots in the bottom rack when he heard the door close. 

"He likes you," Connor said, moving behind him as he straightened, slender arms wrapping around his bulky waist. "He's not good at showing it, but he does. He's just worried for me."

"Would be a shitty fuckin' brother if he wasn't."

Connor nuzzled his shoulder, chuckling softly. "There's my man."

Hank turned, wrapping his arms around Connor' shoulders. "Been here the whole time, Con."

"Yeah but you don't sound like yourself when you aren't swearing."

"If it'll make you feel better, I'll cuss like a goddamn sailor on Thanksgiving," he offered as they relocated to the couch, Hank on his back, Connor tucked into his side. Hank still marvled about just how fucking comfortable his couch was.

"Mmm, that would make me feel better, yes." 

They lay quietly for a few moments before Hank spoke again. "I'll bet you're just as scary when you meet his ... boyfriends? Girlfriends?"

"Either, technically, but he doesn't really ... date. Says he prefers the kind of relationships with clear, negotiated boundaries and no emotions."

"Sounds lonely," Hank admitted, hand rubbing over Connor's arm where it draped over his chest.

"I worry that he is, sometimes. He's part of my crowd but he doesn't make friends easily, so almost all of his friends are my friends." He sighed, nuzzling Hank's shoulder. "He says he's fine, and he does seem okay. But every now and then I see this ... longing? in his eyes, like he knows there's something missing but he can't pinpoint what."

"Mm. He does care about you, a hell of a lot. You really pulled  _ 'don't to it I'm older than you' _ on him?" he smiled.

"I didn't say it exactly, but I did make it clear I expected us all to have a  _ conversation  _ and that he wasn't allowed to just pelt you with questions or thinly veiled accusations."

"And the older brother rank thing?" Hank asked.

"It was implied," he mumbled form where he had nuzzled his face against Hank's chest.

"What, uhm, do I want to know what kid of accusations he might have had?"

Connor sighed before lifting his head, pushing up a little to gaze down at Hank as he stroked his beard. "He suggested that you were after my money."

Hank had to laugh at that. "Jesus, I hope you fucking straightened him out on that one."

"I told him I had to basically resort to emotional blackmail," Connor admitted with a smile.

"Good," hank shook his head. "I remember when I used to have an  _ 'eat the rich' _ bumper sticker."

Connor was quiet for a few moments before he spoke again. "And you do an amazing job of it," he nuzzled Hank's neck with a grin, pressing little kisses there.

Hank laughed, his whole body trembling with ti. Partly it was just nervous energy from the dinner, but it was also just Connor. Being Connor, and making him smile. "Oh, Connor. I fuckin' love you," he said as his head fell back, then realized what he'd actually said and felt himself slowly go chilled as Connor didn't respond. Fuck fuck fuck he knew he would fuck things up. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the rejection in Connor's face.

When Connor began to move, Hank let his arms fall away, thinking he was getting up, away. Before he fully registered what was going on, Connor's body was draped over him and soft lips found his. Soft and hungry and he groaned, not even caring that he hadn't said it back. Only after Connor kissed him breathless did the kiss end. "I love you too," Connor whispered before kissing him again.

+++++

**The Accident**

Connor debated calling Hank to pick him up, but he didn't want to subject him to a hospital needlessly, even if it was just pulling up long enough to stuff his boyfriend into a car.

Privately, he would admit to a few heartbeats worth of trepidation when he hobbled into the cab on the arm of a nurse. It was over by the time the door was closed, though. Sitting back, he felt his ankle throb just behind the painkillers and texted Hank, asking if he was at home. It was just after five and they were meant to be going out, some hole in the wall place that Hank swore had the best apple pie. Since he was a bit hobbled, he wasn't sure going out was a good idea but he still wanted to spend the evening with Hank.

_ 'Just got in, about to walk Sumo _ ' came the return text. 

Connor sighed in disappointment, not that Hank was walking his dog, but that he couldn't join them.  _ 'Need to cancel dinner, can I come over?' _ he probably should have asked, and actually instructed the cab to pull over until he got an answer.

_ 'Of course, what's up?' _

_ 'I'll tell you when I get there. Taking him to the dog park?' _ He thumbed in new instructions and the cab took off.

_ 'Yeah, I can wait till you get here though.' _

Connor smiled down at his phone, feeling a fizz of warmth.  _ 'How about I meet you there?' _

_ 'See you soon.' _

He had the cab pull up to the dog park where he knew Hank could see it, and keyed the door to stay open. Unsurprisingly, he could make out Hank easily, chatting with another owner while their dogs played. That playing consisted of two smallish dogs chasing each other around a Sumo who was scratching his ruff with his hind paw.

Connor felt a clutch as he watched, still kind of amazed that those two were part of his family now. He finally sent Hank a text.  _ 'I'm in the cab, ride home with me?' _

He couldn't help the pride when he could just make out Hank pulling out his phone, then quickly thumbing a reply.  _ 'Big dogs in those things costs extra.' _

Connor huffed, then just waited to see if Hank saw the ridiculousness of that statement. A moment later, he watched Hank kneel, giving Sumo a vigorous pet, perhaps talking to him before hooking up his leash.

"Is your car in the-" Hank's question was arrested when his eyes fell on the dark blue brace encasing Connor's foot and ankle. "What happened?" His voice got decidedly more worried as he urged Sumo into the vehicle.

The cab voice began making noises about an unauthorized animal until Connor poked at the display with an annoyed growl until the expense was added to his card. "Car is in the shop, yes. There was an accident. Something ran into the road, I didn't see it but the driver the next lane over did and swerved."

"Right into your car?" Hank said, voice sounding a little hollow.

"Yeah. I have a hairline fracture, but it's a walking cast so they didn't even give me crutches." Connor blamed the painkillers they gave him at the hospital but he was only just  _ now  _ realizing how this might upset Hank a lot more than it had upset him. "Hank, I'm sorry-"

"But you're okay?" Hank interrupted, fixing him with an intense gaze. "Just the ankle, not ... anything else?"

"They ran a whole bunch of tests, it's really just my ankle," he assured Hank, reaching over to take his hand, smiling when he squeezed back. "We can do the pie place another time, I don't think I'm up for going out but I wanted to spend the evening with you. At your place."

"My place isn't as nice as yours."

"Yeah but you have Sumo, and I'm told dogs make everything better."

Hank snorted softly but couldn't suppress a smile.

Once the cab pulled up, Hank told Connor to stay put while he took Sumo inside. Never one to needlessly obey, he was just stepping very carefully out of the cab when Hank returned. "Dammit, Connor," he grumbled.

His mouth was open to defend himself when he found himself literally swept off his feet, arms going quickly around Hank's neck. "Hank!" This was ridiculous. He could walk! And he knew as much as he was a twink, he wasn't lightweight, not at his height. Hank didn't seem at all bothered as he carried Connor up to the front door of his house.

In spite of his protests, once Hank put him down, Connor missed it, he liked being pressed tight against Hank's chest, feeling those strong arms around him. He wasn't disappointed for long, once inside, he scooped him up again before depositing him on the couch, fussing with the pillows behind him.

"Do you want anything?" Hank asked, grabbing another pillow and lifting Connor's leg, elevating it slightly.

"I want you to sit with me," He pushed himself up, trying to make room for himself behind Hank as he scooted down the couch a little.

"Hey, hey, careful!" Hank took hold of Connor's shoulders and urged him to sit still. "I'll sit with you in a minute, " he promised, his voice softening. "But do you want anything to drink? eat? Do I need to go get a prescription or anything?"

The tenderness and concern in Hank's eyes had Connor's chest aching. He reached out, cupping Hank's face "I'm  **fine** , they filled my prescription at the hospital, I don't need anything to eat, and I'm not really thirsty, I just want to curl up with my boyfriend and think about how nice you smell."

Hank gave a small smile as he nuzzled Connor's hand, catching it between his cheek and his palm. "I best go shower, then," he said before kissing Connor's palm.

"Don't you dare. Just come sit with me, Hank. Please? You can change and everything later but all I've wanted for three hours is to cuddle up to your chest and forget about everything else."

Hank actually looked pained and for a moment Connor worried he'd asked too much, finally pushed it too far somehow. "I think right now if I do that I won't be able to let you go the rest of the night," he admitted softly.

"Oh, Hank" Connor twisted a little, pulling Hank in for a hug, then realized how much he was probably straining his back. "Compromise, just grab me a can of soda and something that can sit for a while, so I can eat when I'm hungry and you don't have to get up later.

"You sure, I can make-"

Connor ran a hand through Hank's hair, cupping the side of his head and fixing him with a firm look. "Hank. Who's the boss?" It was low but it seemed to work in the past.

Hank's faint smile was followed by a slight nod. "Alright," he kissed Connor very briefly before going into the kitchen.

From his angle on the couch, Connor could mostly see into the kitchen, though part of his view was blocked by the fancy divider. He couldn't quite see what Hank was doing but he could hear some mutterings.  _ 'Fuckin' foreign gadget' _ was low but distinct and Connor had to bite his knuckle to avoid chuckling. Hank had accepted the Keurig but was apparently still getting used to it.

Hank in his own kitchen was a bit different from Hank in Connor's kitchen. He was never shy or lacking in confidence, but at Connor's place there was a newness to it He had to check multiple cupboards sometimes to find things, or just asked Connor. There was none of that here. 

Connor knew how thoroughly he'd been hoodwinked when the distinct smell of cooking food wafted in his direction. He couldn't make out what it was, but it smelled good. He couldn't even be mad or hurt that Hank didn't stay when he asked. After some thought, he realized it wasn't because Hank didn't want to help him feel better, it was because he did, but, like with most things, he needed to do it in his own way.

He'd seen Hank in almost every state of undress, but when his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his arm from elbow to hand, Connor's breath caught in his throat for a moment. The man had gorgeous arms, thick, strong and perfect. Like his legs. Like his shoulders and everything else about him. Connor wasn't turned on, the lingering pain and slight fog of the painkillers avoided that. But he could still appreciate the look of his boyfriend and there was plenty to appreciate.

"You're looking a bit dazed," Hank commented as he approached, carrying a mug, which he set on the table. 

"Mm, just thinking about my gorgeous boyfriend," he said with a smile, trying to sit up so he could each the coffee.

"Oh, who else you' datin'?" Hank asked. When he reached for Connor it was to help him sit up, then he turned him, moving him easily so he was sitting properly on the couch, his foot, pillow and all, on the coffee table. 

"Hank!" He knew Hank was tasing but he still reached up, curled two fingers around a bit of his hair and pulled him close "I'm only dating you and you know it," he growled softly before kissing him briefly.

Now that Connor was positioned to Hank's satisfaction, he handed him the mug and Connor scented the french vanilla with a smile. "I love you." Connor smiled, the words coming even more easily than they had the first time, only days ago.

"Love you too, Con." Hank slid a hand through Connor's hair before heading back to the kitchen. When he returned, he had a plate in one hand, a mug in the other, and a second plate resting on his arm just above the first.

Once they were fully settled, Connor had a plate of very nicely cooked fish in his lap and Hank was beside him with the same. "I'm not sure which is more surprising," Connor admitted. "That you had fish on hand, or that you were a waiter and I never knew."

Hank chuckled. "Noticed that did you? Two summers in high school, it's come in handy a few times."

"And the fish?" Recalling the bread, Connor wondered just how old the fish was.

Hank's answer was slower coming this time. "I got it the other day, frozen, in case we wound up cooking over here instead of at your place sometime. And I cooked it tonight specifically because fish is supposed to help with inflammation."

Touched by both reasons, Connor leaned, turning his head to press a kiss to Hank's shoulder. He hadn't been lying when he said he wasn't hungry, but the smell of the fish, and the coffee had stimulated his appetite and he found himself tucking into the meal. Eating off his lap like this was something of a novelty but he managed. The least surprising part of this meal was how well it was cooked. He'd been learning over the past few months that Hank  _ could _ cook, and fairly well. He just, as a rule, didn't. Usually because of time but also exhaustion, and in general not having things around  _ to _ cook because of said time and fatigue.

Connor  _ finally _ got what he'd been wanting. Hank cleared away their dishes, then arranged Connor on the couch, his leg carefully propped on the far arm. Then he slid onto the couch behind him, wiggling a leg between Connor and the back of the couch so the smaller man could lean back against his chest, hips bracketed by Hank's legs. Hank's couch wasn't nearly as comfortable as his own but right now he wouldn't want to be anywhere else. One broad, heavy arm was draped over his shoulder, resting on his chest and Connor had both hands on it, one curled around his hand, the other his wrist, stroking his arm occasionally. "You gonna be up for Thanksgiving?" Hank asked.

"Three days, they said the worst of the pain should be over by then. I should be fine. If not I'll just sit on your lap till everything feels better," he said with a chuckle. After eating he'd taken another dose of painkillers per instructions and they were kicking in, give him a soft wave of relief.

"Guest list been finalized?" There was some debate, last Hank knew, of who might be bringing extras.

"You, me, Markus, Leo was invited but opted not to come. Simon's bringing his brother, Daniel, identical twins."

"There's a fuckin's shocker," Hank murmured.

"North, her girlfriend Chloe. Cleoh's bringing her boyfriend, who isn't really local. He's bringing  _ his  _ brother, who is, they're not twins. Oh, I found out the boyfriend's brother is a cop, so at least you'll have something besides me in common with someone there!"

"Huh, that'll be nice. Guessing he's still a young'un though."

"Yes, sorry." Connor pressed a kiss to Hank's bare forearm. "Blue was bringing her boyfriend but he bailed. It turns out that Traci's boyfriend will be there anyway, she and Jerome finally admitted they've been having a thing for a few months.

"How potentially messy is that gonna be?" Hank asked.

It was a fair question but Connor shrugged. "Probably not at all. Over the years there's been a lot of dating within the crowd, not usually for long, and it's always ended amicably. Friendship more important and all that. The only lasting couple of the original group is Kara and Luther." Connor sighed softly, knowing he had to answer the question that was no doubt going through Hank's mind. "Markus and I were together for two months our freshman year of high school. I kissed Blue but all that did was basically confirm what we both knew - that I was gay and she wasn't."

"I don't have the right to ask, but I'm gonna be meeting the guy, did you and Markus ever-?"

"No. That's actually why we ended things. We liked making out. But neither of us wanted to go beyond that, and we realized we were just making out because it felt nice, not because of any deep attraction. And if two teenage boys decide they don't really want to sleep together, that's a pretty strong indication they're not dating material for each other."

"I'm relieved honestly. Like I said I know I don't have the right but it was gonna be in my mind the whole night if I didn't know."

"I'm glad you asked, I don't want you being bothered about my past. Markus and Blue are the only ones who ever got more than a drunk adolescent cuddle from me, though."

"Oh so you're a cuddly drunk? That's good to know."

Connor chuckled. "I was cuddly as a drunk teenager - I think it was just undirected sexual frustration. You're the only thing that makes me real cuddly these days," he emphasized the point by nuzzling Hank's arm, pressing his face to it and drawing in his scent.

"I'm trying not to assume anything, and I figure you would have told me by now but is there gonna be anything at this party I have to  **not** notice?"

It took Connor a moment to realize what Hank was asking. "No. No, no." He was glad he could assure him of that. "For most of us, underage drinking and staying out past curfew is the worst we ever did. Leo is the only one of us who went further, developing a little drug habit. Got arrested once and it was enough to make him clean up. That's why he's out in California, he needed to find his own way, change his environment completely, friends and all. He's been back a few times, but he mostly sticks close to home. He's got, like, five kids now," he chuckled.

"Where does Leo fit in again?"

"Oh, Markus' brother, also a-

"Twin, right,"

When the combination of fatigue and painkillers had Connor dozing, Hank slipped out from under him. Figuring he was just being tucked in, he only whined a little and dozed off. Strong arms under him woke him again, already lifting him, and he could hear mutters of  _ 'I'm too fucking old for this shit' _ and kept his eyes closed as Hank carried him, only indulging in a sleepy nuzzle to his chest.

When he was set down again, he realized it was on a freshly re-sheeted bed and smiled. Taking the opportunity to wake up more, he reached for Hank's hand "Stay?" He knew Hank well enough that, lovers or not, he just might try to sleep on the couch to avoid hurting Connor and he was not going to stand for that. He'd hobble out and sleep on top of him on the couch if it came to that.

"I will," He promised, squeezing Connor's hand. "Do you want to change before bed? I think some of those t-shirts you got me might fit you."

Normally, Connor preferred either his own silk pajamas, or nothing at all. But right now one of Hank's shirts sounds like the absolute best idea either of them had ever had. "I need to take the brace off to get my pants off," he murmured.

"Let me know if I hurt you," Hank said as he sat on the side of the bed, lifting Connor's braced foot into his lap. It took a minute and Connor was about to tell him how when he figured out the latches. The pressure on his foot eased and he let out a shuddering breath. "Okay?"

"Yeah," Connor assured him as Hank eased the padded brace away. He gave his foot a slow experimental wiggle, and it felt fine - until he found the angle where it didn't and hissed in pain. As soon as he stopped moving it, like an idiot, the pain eased. "Sorry," he gasped, seeing the worry on Hank's face, strong hands resting on his leg just above his ankle. "Won't be doing that again,"

"Good boy," Hank growled softly. He sat the brace aside, then turned to lower Connor's foot to the bed. "Now let's get you undressed," he murmured ashe reached for Connor's belt.

"I can manage," he protested, but weakly. Partly because he really was feeling a bit woozy, but also he found he liked this side of Hank. Usually, at his own insistence, it was Connor taking care of Hank. However, unlike Connor, Hank seemed to have an instinct for the little things about nurturing than Connor hadn't developed. Connor's caretaking was very practical, Hank's was more tender. Was it something he always had or because he was a father?

"I know, but let me do this, Con?" Hank asked quietly, easing Connor's pants down around his hips. For the first time, Connor was being touched all over by Hank and he wasn't hard.

"Okay," he said quietly and his only movement was to push his hips up to help Hank get his pants off. When those gorgeous, big hands moved to unbutton his shirt, something occurred to Connor, but he knew better than to ask. How much of this was in reaction to Cole? As far as he knew, no one else in Hank's life had been in any kind of car related incident since his son's death. Hank had been helpless then, injured himself, and his son already beyond saving. He would never ask, refusing to poke at wound that was still so raw, but he wondered. Was the excessive fussing a way of trying to ease his past?

With Hank's help, Connor was stripped and dressed. Aside from the shirt, Hank pulled a pair of drawstring shorts up his legs, knotting it so they wouldn't fall down. Once he was redressed, he got to enjoy the sight of Hank undressing, mostly. In a move that was as startling as it was thrilling in its way, Hank didn't leave the room. Instead he turned his back, giving Connor only a brief glimpse of smooth, broad shoulders and a strong back before it was covered with a fresh t-shirt. It was the closest Hank had come to letting Connor see his scars and now all he wanted to do was pull the man close and kiss him and tell him how much he meant to him.

After a brief kiss, Hank went to shut down the house, giving Sumo one last pet and turning all the lights off before coming to join Connor in bed. Once hank was settled, Connor scooted as close as he could, pushing up to gaze down at him. "I love you," he whispered, cupping Hank's face as he leaned in to kiss him.

"Love you too," Hank murmured, giving Connor one more kiss before they settled in to sleep. It took a few tries at finding something that worked, and when they ddi Connor found he really liked it. To keep his foot elevated, he slept on his back, foot propped up. In a reverse of their usual habits, and a testament to how much they both needed the other close right now, Hank's grey head was on his shoulder, his arm around Hank's broad back. His other hand was caressing the strong arm draped across his skinny chest.

"This okay for you?" Hank rumbled, actually moving just a bit closer, and Connor wondered if it felt as strange-but-really-good to him as it did to Connor.

"This is very okay for me," he promised, lifting his head to press a kiss to Hank's hair, nuzzling for a moment before letting it fall back with a contented sigh.

+++++

**The Dinner (Hank)**

Hank woke slowly, gazing up at his own ceiling for a few minutes, grumbling when he realized Connor wasn't beside him. LIttle shit was probably in the kitchen walking around. He could smell coffee and climbed out of bed. 

Finding him in the kitchen, Hank was still grumbly but less annoyed. Connor was on his feet, yes, but his knee was bent, toe of the brace resting on the floor and all of his weight on his good foot as he stirred something in the frying pan. "This is my house, Con, I'm supposed to cook breakfast for you," he murmured, resting a hand on the small of his back and kissing Connor's upturned cheek.

"I like cooking for you, and you've been taking care of me for days, Hank." 

"Still," he let his hand sweep down Connor's back to give his ass a playful and very light little swat "You shouldn't be on your feet anyway."

"It's a  **walking** cast, Hank, I'm supposed to walk in it."

Hank grunted and approached that stupid gizmo Connor got him just as it finished filling a mug with plain black coffee. Seeing no half-full or dirty mugs anywhere, Hank pushed the button to eject the used flavor cup and stuck a french vanilla one in for Connor. He grumbled and bitched about it, but the machine was a fuck of a lot easier, and brewed a better cup than his old one ever had.

Adding milk and sugar, Hank leaned against the counter and watched Connor as he sipped the coffee. "You're sure we don't need to bring anything?" Connor had assured him that everything would be there and everyone just did what they could and everything got cooked somehow.

"I'm sure. Markus always makes sure we have plenty of ingredients on hand for anything we feel like making. The only permanently assigned duty is Markus does the turkeys. I suspect Simon is helping this year, they've probably already started."

"Do you know what you want us to be doing?" He asked, figuring whatever they picked they'd be doing it together. He'd be okay doing his own thing if they weren't allowed to double up.

"Usually, since I love cooking, I tend to pick last and just do whatever's left. Oh, the other rule is once someone declares they're doing something, you're not allowed to interfere. You're allowed to not eat it if they do a bad job, but each person's dish is sacrosanct."

"Sounds reasonable. I'll play it by ear, then, help you with whatever."

Once the eggs were done, Hank insisted that Connor sit while he dished up breakfast, then helped him into his chair, enjoying the firm press of his body for just a moment.

The dress code was, quote  _ 'Don't show up naked,' _ which suited Hank fine. Knowing they'd be cooking, Hank opted for one of his older shirts that had already stood the test of time and durability. Its earthtone leaf design also had a very thanksgiving feel. Older jeans but a new belt rounded out the look, and he just hoped he wouldn't look too out of place, straddling the line between workmen and 'nice'.

Connor, in his usual style, had black slacks that hugged his ass just right, and a dark blue shirt that felt like silk but that he insisted was a good deal more durable. Thankfully, the slacks were just loose enough that Hank could get them down around his brace without it looking awful.

They both wanted a few drinks so they took a cab. Connor's auto-drive was still in the shop, Hank's manual vehicle didn't have auto-drive options, and Hank had refused to have Markus 'send a car' on general principle. He was, however, willing to accept at least the idea that there were enough rooms in the fucking house for everyone to sleep over without doubling up. Christ, what was he getting into?

Usually, the others wandered in between ten and noon, sometimes helping with prep before the cooking started. Connor, being Markus' best and oldest friend, usually got there around eight, when he didn't stay over, to help get ready  _ for  _ the prep.

"The only thing someone else does is physically unload the food and put it in the kitchen. Markus and I and anyone else who shows up early helps."

"I'm gonna be cleaning a fuck ton of potatoes aren't I?" Hank laughed, genuinely glad to have something to do. The more he heard about the general arrangement, the more respect he had for the kids involved. They really did take work seriously, like Connor.

"And shucking corn, deveining shrimp, all kinds of stuff. Aren't you lucky?" Connor asked with a cheeky grin.

"I really am," Hank admitted, squeezing Connor's hand. "This is the first time I've actually looked forward to any holiday since Cole died." 

Connor turned in his seat and kissed Hank gently. 

The only thing missing from the day would be Sumo. Markus had no problem with him, no matter how much Hank warned that he shed, but Blue and Traci were allergic. So Sumo was curled up warm and happy in front of Jeff's fireplace, and had been since the night before.

The cab pulled up to a very large, very fancy house and Hank gave a low whistle. "Very fuckin' fancy," he said. Stepping out, he turned, his hands reaching for Connor's waist as he lifted him out, half to help, and half for the excuse to touch and manhandle his lover.

Connor had asked him to  **please** not carry him into the house, so Hank just grumbled and kept pace with him, ready with an arm if Connor needed it. He knew he was probably being overprotective, but he couldn't help it, and he was trying not to be stifling.

Markus, tall and bronze with extremely close cropped dark hair, greeted them at the door. Once they were inside and divested of their coats, Markus and Connor hugged, kissing cheeks briefly before Markus offered his hand to Hank. 

"Okay, since we've got a couple new people coming this year-" Markus turned to a small box on a nearby end table and flipped through something. "Name tags,  _ especially  _ since I know Connor's told you how many twins we have." 

"HANK" was printed in an elegant, but easily legible hand on a  _ 'hello my name is' _ sticker. Only then did he notice Markus also had one, and he noticed the tiny heart at the end of the s.

"Did Simon do these?" Connor asked as he stuck his in place over his right pocket. Then he gently poked Markus' name tag where the heart was.

"He wanted to help, he hasn't met most of you guys either," Markus said, blushing just a bit.

Knowing when to draw fire, Hank chuckled. "I appreciate it. With all the twins, I was worried I'd be seeing double before I even started drinking."

Markus shot him a thankful smile and they soon moved into the kitchen, where Hank met the quiet blond and the four of them set to work. A lot of it was just washing, and since they were the least familiar with the kitchen, it fell to Hank and Simon while Connor and Markus made sure everything was in shape and laid out for easy access of a dozen plus people.

Simon's job,  _ 'in childcare' _ as Connor had put it, was really as a designer for upscale children's educational 'toys' and it turned out his company, though not him specifically, had produced one of Cole's favorites as a kid, acquired fifth hand of course.

Connor came by, giving Hank's love handle a squeeze and his shoulder a kiss as he set another bag of things for him to wash on the counter beside him. 

When he finished the potatoes he'd been de-eyeing, he opened the bag and scowled. "What the fuck is this thing?" He asked, looking at the bright neon pink thing with lime green leaf tips or something.

Slender arms wrapped around his waist and he felt Connor peeking around him. "Dragon fruit."

Only the fact that he could see Simon and Markus, foreheads together kept him from being self conscious about how touch-hungry he and Connor were. "I don't think they had dragon fruit at the first thanksgiving," he said with a chuckle. "You doing okay?" he asked more quietly.

"Mm, gonna take a break soon. Mind if I pull up a chair and keep you company?"

"Not gonna say no to that, but won't it leave Markus doing most of the running around?" Hank took a breath. "Wanna switch places? I don't know the kitchen like you but I can take orders pretty well."

Connor drew away enough to make the suggestion to Markus, who took a moment tearing himself away from Simon to answer "That's probably a good idea, I'll grab you a stool."

Once Hank had Connor situated to his satisfaction, sitting on a stool with a smaller one supporting his brace, Hank put himself in Markus' hands.

Thankfully, Markus, aside from having an easy charisma that made him likable and a natural leader, gave clear instructions without talking down to Hank.

Hank spent the rest of the time getting things down, counting things a dozen other tasks, the only modification was he needed to be told where most of the fucking things were. And Markus was right beside him, not just issuing orders.

Around ten o'clock others started to filter in. Blue and Traci first, with Jerome. With this set of twins at least, he wouldn't have needed name tags Blue's hair matched her name. 

With the arrival of fresh meat, Connor and Hank were rotated out, which was apparently tradition. Whoever had been working the longest got a break when someone new showed up. Normally that would have included Simon, but since Markus was going to be in the kitchen all day, Simon was as well.

Sprawled on a couch that probably cost more than his fucking house, Hank had Connor's feet in his lap. "Need a pill, Con?" he asked quietly. He'd tried to mostly hobble on his good foot but walking was inevitable and he kept insisting it was  _ 'a walking cast meant for walking.' _ Didn't mean said walking wasn't painful.

Connor's lips pursed and he nodded even as he shrugged. "Yeah but I left them home. I'll be okay once I'm off it for a bit."

For a second, Hank's clutched at the causal 'home' and not 'your place', or even 'the house'. Then he smiled "Lucky you've got a very observant boyfriend," he said, fishing the bottle out of his pocket. "Saw them on the table as we were leaving."

Connor surged up, a hand gripping Hank's shirt and pulling him in for a kiss before he fell back with a sigh. "I love you," he said clutching the little bottle to his chest.

"I'll be back," He eased himself out from under Connor's feet and leaned in for another kiss. A look in the fridge left him a little baffled. He saw several cases of what was probably soda, judging by the brighter colors, but he didn't recognize any of the brands. One of them wasn't even in English. 

"Need something?" One of the new arrivals - Blue - asked when she saw his no doubt bewildered look at the open fridge.

"Need a soda for Connor. Don't even know what the fuck most of this is, let alone what he'd like." He felt once more the yawning divide between them but he never figured it would apply to fucking soft drinks.

"Oh, uhm," She crouched a little, leaning in for a better look and finally snagged one of the purple cans. "Markus likes to mix things up a lot so he's in some weird soda of the month club," she shook her head and he was glad it wasn't just him, given that she'd had to read the labels.

"Alright, thanks," he gave her a smile and headed back to Connor who had that I-tried-to-dry-swallow-a-pill-and-it-didn't-work look of medicinal disgust on his face. He cracked open the soda and downed half of it gratefully before scowling at the label. "What is this?"

"Soda of the month, according to Blue," Hank offered with a shrug as he sat down, lifting Connor's feet into his lap once again. Connor offered him the can and he took a sip. "Mm. Grapey," was the best he could come up with before handing it back. Then the weird aftertaste hit and he saw where Connor's scowl had come from. 

After cleaning for so long, Hank wanted something to do with his hands and carefully eased Connor's shoe off his good foot. Since it had been taking so much of the slack of his locomotion, he had no doubt it was sore. He couldn't do anything about the broken foot but he could at least help with this one. He started with a firm squeeze, then shumbs along his arch.

Connor let out a surprised low moan and all but melted into the couch as Hank worked. 

Loving that he could do this for him, Hank kept working, massaging the balls of his feet, the arch, his ankle itself. When he hit that loopy point, Connor sat up, turning carefully and snuggled into Hank's side. This was a nice moment, that little endorphin rush when the painkillers finally kicked in but before his body had settled to the new status quo. Connor was soft and extra snuggly for a few minutes.

"Feeling better?" Hank asked with a chuckle, tucking the bottle back into his pocket when Connor handed it to him.

"You're welcome to do that again any time you want," Connor said with a nuzzle to his shoulder.

"Noted," He said with a chuckle. 

Over the next little while, most of the others arrived and Hank met a flurry of new people, and the name tags were a godsend. As the grunts in the kitchen were rotated out, a mini party formed in the front hall. For all that they kept in touch, apparently most of them only got together a few times a year, and this was by far the biggest event. With Connor feeling better, he insisted on standing to mingle, tough he also insisted on keeping Hank close and he could feel the extra weight of Connor leaning on him. 

Connor recounted, in general, the accident a few times, when asked about his brace. Hank was asked about his job but thankfully not asked for any 'neat cop stories', whether because Connor had told them not to, or if they just weren't inclined.

Still, he was hoping that other cop would show up, would be nice to have something solid in common with someone here. There was a small commotion of squeaks coming from the front door, but all Hank could see was a very tall man and a huddle of most of the women. Only when the crowd parted did he realize what the fuss was about. This had to be Luther and Kara, since they were both obviously known to the others, and she was visibly pregnant. This was very clearly the baby bump debut. She made her way around the room, getting congratulatory hugs and kisses from everyone.

As soon as Connor began to wiggle, Hank stood and all but hefted his lover to his feet, knowing he'd want to hug her as well. They had a brief embrace and she cooed over hs foot, then he cooed over her belly.

"This is Hank," Connor said, taking his hand with a proud grin.

"Nice to meet you, Hank," He was surprised at her strength when she pulled him down for a hug and he wondered if it was hormones or if she was naturally like ths. Hopefully he'd be in Connor's life long enough to find out.

"Lovely to meet you too, Kara," he said with a smile.

Since at this point, almost everyone had arrived, and there were already too many people to fit into the kitchen, Markus decided to start the actual cooking.

Since he and Connor were going to deal with the dregs - if such a thing existed in such a well supplied kitchen, they were sitting it out. The two of them were settled on a loveseat, his arm around the back, Connor's foot propped on an ottoman. A moment later a pouty but queasy looking Kara was ushered out of the kitchen by Luther and Blue.

Luther helped her settle into an armchair caddy corner to their love seat, then continued fussing over her until she shooed him away. "Sorry, sometimes a lot of smells can-" she gestured vaguely at herself.

"My ex wife was like that," Hank said sympathetically. "I spent so much time making this tea for her, I think I can do it my sleep even now." He curled his arm around Connor, glad he didn't seem the jealous type, especially since he'd met the ex in question. Still, it could be weird talking about exes around the current one.

"Oh, that's so sweet. I love Luther, I love him to pieces, but he's hopeless in the kitchen. He can boil water, but only because we have an automatic kettle."

Hank chuckled, then settled back for a moment as he thought. She and Connor chatted and he enjoyed the sound of him happy and enjoying time with his friend. After enough time had passed that if someone were bringing her anything they would have done so, Hank gave Connor's shoulder a squeeze. "I'll be back in a little bit," he promised, giving his kiss a cheek before he stood.

In the kitchen, he found Luther and asked a quick question before weaving his way through the chatting and working crowd. The stove was covered in pots but he found an electric kettle going unused and filled it up.

Some ginger, a grater, a lemon, a few other spices and some honey. By the time the water was boiling, Hank had a makeshift tea bag ready and found a largish mug to fill. The mug gave enough room for the larger teabag to circulate in the water. It was silly, but he hoped it would help, and he felt nice to have something to offer because of his age instead of in spite of it. After adding just enough honey to cut the bitterness of some of the flavorings - Luther confirmed she didn't like overly sweet things - he carried the mug back out to the sitting area.

"This is what I used to make," he told Kara ashe handed it over, then settled back beside Connor, suddenly worried he'd been too impulsive, too eager to be needed. Then he watched her inhale it and take a slow sip and he could see the unease fading from her face.

"Oh, that's wonderful," She said, then took another sip.

Connor reached up and kissed the hand draped over his shoulder. "Thank you," he whispered.

The front door rang and Markus emerged a moment later to answer it, revealing a redhead and an ice blonde, each with fairly short hair. They each exchanged a warm hug with Markus but their greeting was more subdued and they seemed to be telling him something. The redhead looked angry and the blonde more apologetic. He couldn't get a look at the name tags to see which was Chloe and which was North.

The answer to Hank's question was revealed a moment later. Another blonde entered, long hair, over her shoulder in a ponytail, looking much more subdued than the other two women. She was carrying a lasagne pan, and from what he could tell was apologizing to Markus for it, shaking her head gesturing at the door. He put a hand on her shoulder and kissed her cheek, apparently assuring her.

Hank's spidey sense was tingling and even Connor was straightening up, no longer leaning against Hank as he adjusted himself in his seat, getting ready because it looked like a confrontation was coming through the door.

The guy who opened it did so backwards, facing the person behind him and they were having a clear argument. One look and Hank could see the last person was the source of the strife. The douchiest looking fellow he'd ever seen, head mostly shaved except for a few inches at the top, pulled back into a ponytail. He walked in like  **he** owned the place, not Markus. Everything he said looked like an order being issued, only without Markus' charisma or even Niles' sheer force of presence.

Hank finally stood, feeling the air crackle with tension. A few others had emerged from the kitchen at the commotion. "Anything I can do, Markus?" He asked with calm authority, hoping he wasn't overstepping his bounds. He assumed the 'Lieutenant?!' was from someone else surprised at his actions.

"Actually, Elijah was just leaving," Markus said with enough chill that Hank almost shivered.

"Fine," the douche ground out. He gave Hank a brief look, then at the other man who Hank still couldn't see. "Not really my crowd anyway. Cle?" 

The word had the sound of a command and for a second, Hank thought she might go with him, then her sister and north flanked her and she straightened up. "I'll stay. Gavin too," she added.

He sneered. "Fine, enjoy slumming it," he threw at them before turning, heading down the walk.

Only once the guy at the door moved away so it could close did several background clues fall into place. "Detective Reed? The fuck are you doing here?" he asked, more surprised than annoyed.

"Oh fuck, just what I need," Gavin sighed, but didn't have that usual pissyness about him. If anything, he looked embarrassed.

"You two know each other?" Markus asked, giving Hank questioning look. 

He didn't  _ like  _ Gavin, but he wasn't about to throw him under the bus, not on a day like today. Let him fuck his own shit up, and he suspected he was being asked to vouch for him. "Yeah, we work together, he's alright." Then he turned to Gavin. "That assholes your brother?"

"Half brother, it's a long fucking story. Anywhere I can have a smoke?" he asked.

Markus directed him to a side patio, which Hank thought was gracious of him, considering the front door was right there. But then so might be his brother.

Connor came up to Hank's side, an arm at his back, Hank's arm soon around his shoulders. "Markus, what's going on?"

Knowing he'd get that side from Connor later, he decided to to see about who was probably the one person at this place even more out of his element than he was.

After a quick word and a kiss to Connor's cheek, he followed Markus' directions and found Gavin in a white wrought iron chair, elbows on his knees, head in one hand, cigarette in the other.

"You're the last person I expected to see here today. I know we don't get along, but I'll behave if you will," he offered, stepping to sit in the chair beside him.

Gavin gave him an attempt at a sneer, then a nod. "How the hell did you end up here, anyway?"

"I show you mine, you show me yours."

"Age before beauty, old man."

For as vicious as the two of them could get, that was practically foreplay. "The host Markus, I'm dating a friend of his."

Gavin turned to study him, head resting on his hand, head tipped sideways. "Fuck that explains  **a lot!** Jesus," he said with a laugh, taking a long drag on his cigarette as he sat back, slouching in his chair and gazing up at the sky. "Lij's dad married my mom when he was a kid. Then she had me. Lij and I actually got along okay. I mean we weren't joined at the hip but he didn't fuck with me too much, you know?"

Despite his dislike of him, Hank felt bad that Gavin's definition of 'got along okay' boiled down to 'didn't fuck with me too much' "So he's one of those 'self made millionaires'?" 

"Nope. Would you believe I was raised in a house not much smaller than this one?" he asked, his voice actually quiet.

"Then why ... ?"

"I wanted to be a cop. They always knew I wanted a job with the law, with crime. But they figured it was a lawyer. Or at worst, a forensic something or other." He lit his next cigarette with the old one and pinched off the cherry before dropping the butt on the table. "When I told them I got accepted into the police academy," He snapped his fingers. "Cut off. Disowned. I was offered a small payment if I would have the good grace to change my name, so it would remain unsullied by having a cop attached to it. I considered telling them to shove it." He shrugged. "I took it. Didn't like 'Kamksi' anyway."

"How'd you end up here today?" Never in a million years would he figure he'd wind up on some rich fuckers patio, talking to Gavin Reed of all people, and finding out the younger man had more claim to a life like this than he ever would.

"Our parents died last year. He got everything, of course. Reached out to me, said he was sorry and all that shit. Where he'd been the last fifteen years I really don't fucking care." He looked away, taking another long drag. "But he was family. Closest I fuckin' had anyway. I think it was mostly just a way for him to show off. Have me over at his place, make his cook do all this fancy ass food like I'd always been dirt poor and didn't grow up in the same fucking house he did. Still, free food. So he starts dating this chick," he gestures back at the house. "Cleoh. Invites me over a few items, Probably just to rub my nose in it  _ 'See this is what you'd get if you didn't become a cop.' _ She invites him to her friends thanksgiving. Says I'd be welcome, too. She's nice. Lij says sure, big family do. She told us both, a few times, about the  _ 'don't bring anything we'll make it all there' _ thing. He insisted on having his chef make some fancy lasagne thing- this morning. Guy has his own family and Lij made him come in today and cook something for a party that explicitly didn't require it. Said he wasn't about to cook anything for a crowd of people."

"Sounds like a fuckin' winner."

"Of course he has to pick everyone up, show off his fancy smart car big enough to carry all of us. Picked me up first, probably so I could make sure to see all the nice big houses I wasn't allowed to live in anymore. Then Cleoh. Chloe and North and that's when it got fun. Cleoh didn't make a thing about the lasagne, she probably decided it wouldn't do any good. North, though. Fuck she started tearing him a new one."

"I like her," Hank said.

Gavin let out a laugh. "Yeah, she's something. She started, Chloe joined in. I could see Cleoh just getting smaller and smaller because Lij was starting to shit on  **her** because her sister's dyke girlfriend - his words - was giving him shit. So I started to draw fire, give him shit, tell him to leave them the fuck alone. You pretty much saw the rest, I guess."

When nothing else was forthcoming, Hank sat back, looking over the grounds, then something occurred to him. "What the fuck did you mean, my dating Connor explains a lot?"

Gavin laughed and to Hank's surprise it wasn't a mean laugh. "All of the sudden, out of the blue, you're getting packages from expensive courier places, you start using this  **stupidly** expensive phone, which you now suddenly know how to use. You actually start to ... not be such an asshole. New clothes, expensive new jacket. Getting dropped off in a car I don't even know if Lij could afford. You've got yourself a sug-"

"Do  _ not  _ say it," Hank growled slowly. He knew how it looked, on the outside. And in some ways maybe it was, but it was a lot more than that, and if he was gonna hear it, he didn't want to hear it from Gavin fucking Reed.

Gavin raised his hands in a 'innocent man' gesture. "It was that charity auction, wasn't it? Fucker paid  twenty grand for your wrinkly ass." Gavin was smirking but it was more teasing than malicious.

Hank snorted and stood. "And you know what? This wrinkly ass is worth every fucking penny."

The sound of Gavin choking on a lungful of smoke followed him all the way inside.

+++++

**The Dinner (Connor)**

Connor watched Hank go with a smile, knowing how much he disliked the detective, and he'd still said what he needed to let him stay, for now. Now he was going to check on him. 

Turning his attention back to the crowd still at the door, he and the others were getting a basic idea of what had happened. Cleoh's boyfriend had insisted on bringing food, knowing it wasn't needed. That wasn't what had everyone upset, it was the way he'd gone about it. The arrogance that Connor had seen in the few moments he'd actually been in the house. North said she'd started it, but the twins came to her defence. They even assured Markus that Gavin had been on their side, not his brother's.

After everyone headed to the kitchen, North and Chloe stayed with Cleoh to try and soothe her after what was undoubtedly a breakup, or would be soon. They were taking her over to sit near him and Kara when Connor saw movement. A peek proved it to Nines' car and he opened the door, stepping carefully outside.

"Cleoh's boyfriend turned up, and got kicked out." He gave him a brief rundown of what he knew. 

"I appreciate the warning," Nines said, blue eyes stormy, and breathing slow and even.

For all he'd said to Hank about Connor being his only family, Cleoh meant more to him than the others, even if the only people who knew where the two of them, their respective siblings, and North. There was something between them that was a love, of sorts, but Connor would sooner call it an understanding. They were cut from the same cloth, which made her dating someone like Kamski a bit out of character, but she probably had her reasons. She looked like he'd been grinding her down for a while and it pained him to see someone like her so cowed. It would enrage Nines if he saw it unawares.

"Also, the boyfriend's brother is still here, he actually works with Hank."

"Speaking of which, why is he letting you walk around?" Nines asked darkly and Connor groaned. 

"It's a  **walking** cast," he growled, turning to push the door open to go back inside, the pain starting to get to him but he couldn't take another pill yet.

Once back inside, Connor considered joining the small group seated where he and Hank had been, but Hank wasn't there and he wasn't really up for talking. He wasn't going to interrupt Hank, trusting whatever he was doing was best done alone, or he would have asked Connor along. Going off to find a quiet spot by himself would feel like sulking, so he went to the busiest place in the house, hoping his pain would get lost in the din.

He pulled himself up onto the stool Markus had gotten for him earlier and just watched the swirl. Most of the people he'd grown up with, and the chosen few added over the years. They all worked together, helping out, not quite like a well oiled machine, but more like a hardworking amorphous blob that was working on a dozen dishes at once. The smell of roasting turkey was slowly filling the space, along with everything else bubbling and brewing and Connor felt so at peace, despite the throbbing in his ankle.

The ones who liked cooking were mostly running the show, which was usual. There were shouted insults, but they were old, careworn, almost pet names at this point. When Nines poked his head in to grab a soda, cries of 'tin can' were heard and Connor laughed. 

For a lesson in earning money one year, and fostering care for the environment, their father had told Nines he'd get money for every empty tin can he brought home for recycling. The intention had been to get him to bring his cans from lunch home so their dad could make sure they got recycled, rather than leave them at school where they sometimes just got tossed in the garbage. What it *did* was lead to him collecting and confiscating every empty tin can he could get his hands on. That was when everyone realized it would definitely be Nines, and not Connor taking over the business. Connor was glad to have the pressure off, honestly.

Nines stopped at his stool, giving his shoulder a squeeze to make sure he was alright. Connor nodded and shooed him off, knowing he wanted to get back to Cleoh.

Eventually the uncomfortable angle of the stool was making the pain worse at a faster rate than the noise was distracting him from it, and he eased himself off. Unfortunately, he didn't realize his  **other** foot had gone numb and went crashing to the floor.

Feeling more embarrassed than hurt by the fall itself, it nevertheless sent pain shooting up his ankle. A flurry of hands had him on his feet before he could say anything more than  _ 'I'm fine' _ Markus pulled Connor's arm over his shoulder and helped him hobble back to the seating area with the rest of them, lowering him down onto the couch.

"Connor, What happened?" Hank strode towards them, apparently done with Detective Reed.

"I'm  **fine** Hank," he did his best not to growl but the pain was really getting to him.

"He fell off a stool in the kitchen," Markus tattled and got a swat to his leg from Connor for his trouble.

Hank looked like he was ready to argue or make some point, but instead all he did was address Markus "Can someone bring him something to drink, please?" He asked, fishing the bottle from his pocket and sitting beside him as Markus headed back into the kitchen.

"Not for another half hour-" 

"You just fell on your ass, Con," he said gently. His big arm rested on the back of the couch, then his hand moved to the back of his neck, a motion that always soothed Connor, and it had the same effet now.

"My other foot fell asleep," he said as he nodded. Luther came out with a glass of juice in one hand and a mug in the other. Connor recognized the teabag Hank had put together being reused. The glass came to Connor and he dutifully took the pill from Hank and swallowed it. It went down much easier than the last one. Just having Hank here also soothed him and he let himself lean against his lover with a quiet sigh. 

He watched with a fond smile as Luther fussed over Kara after handing her the tea. They were always so sweet and deep down, he'd always been a little jealous of them. The easy way they were with each other. He never thought he'd have that, not with the kind of men he liked. That thought just had him pressing closer to Hank and he closed his eyes, just letting himself get lost in the feel of Hank against him, his arm around him.

When he became aware of things again, it was because Hank was shifting under him. Worried he was getting up, Connor tried to sit up only to be pulled back into place. "Was just getting my phone," Hank assured him. Then, with a deftness that made Connor's chest swell with pride, Hank unlocked his phone and thumbed his way through options until his photo albums came up. He still kept that original fuzzy one of Sumo as the lock screen, and probably always would. But he had dozens of others now and was showing them to a cooing Kara.

With his leg feeling better, Connor felt more inclined to be awake and present so he sat up a little and looked around. Things had quieted, the fuss of the fight earlier had blown over, and most of the cooking or prep had been done. It looked like they'd reached the waiting portion of the gathering, which was sometimes Connor's favorite. This was the time when they really caught up with each other. The work was done for now, nothing left to do but wait for everything to be cooked. A nice feature of Markus' house was a dozen programmable ovens, so food could be put in them whenever, given a duration, and then everything would come out at the same time.

The crowd had broken into little knots strewn about the entryway and adjacent living room and parlour. He could hear someone on the piano, probably Markus. Probably showing off for Simon. North and Chloe were talking with Gavin and Josh, with the detective looking surprisingly at ease in this crowd. 

Traci and Jerome were canoodling quietly in a dark corner, with Blue relating some exciting story to the remaining Jerries and Ralph. Connor noticed that Jeremy and Ralph standing almost close enough to brush shoulders.

Twisting a little, he finally spied Nines and Cleoh. They were standing apart from the others, tucked away but Connor could see his hand on her shoulder as they leaned together, talking low. If he couldn't make out Nines jaw moving, he would think they were just staring at each other. Which would be like them, honestly.

"Feeling better?" Hank asked as he put his phone away, then offered a strong hand to Kara when she began pushing up from her chair. She thanked him and began waddling away, in search of either Luther or the bathroom probably.

"Yeah," He nodded, then grimaced recalling his behavior earlier. "Sorry I got bratty," he sat up, stretching a little before he relaxed again.

"You're in pain, Con," Hank said soothingly. 

Now that they were alone for the moment, he turned to Hank. "What's up with Detective Reed? I know you're not fond of him."

"I'm not. He's still a little shit, but I think we have an agreement now to at least behave in public." 

"Why don't you like him? He doesn't seem too bad a sort?" Until now, Connor only had Hank's side of things. He wasn't trying to poke but he was curious what it was he didn't know, since he seemed an okay sort.

"Honestly? I just don't like him. He's a decent cop. Cocky, but I've been friends with worse fuckers. I just ... don't like him. But I can play nice, I promise," he said with a smile.

"I know you can. Looks like he can, too."

"So what's the outline for the rest of the day?" Hank asked, reaching to take Connor's glass for a sip of juice.

The casual food sharing warmed Connor in the same way seeing Hank in clothes he bought did. It was a weird kind of caretaking. "Right now we just wait, get caught up. I mean, we all stay in touch with texts and things like that, but as a group, we don't get together that much. The closer friends and siblings generally see each other more often, so I see Markus almost once a week but I haven't seen Blue or Rupert at all this last year. Once everything's ready, we lay it all out in the dining room, Markus has a few room service trays. At dinner, he breaks out the wine and beer while we eat. After it's over, Everyone pitches in to clean."

"There something you can do that's sitting down?"

Connor huffed a little, but nodded. "He's got dishwashers but we do this all by hand because then it's faster and when it's done it's done. Washed, dried, put away, leftovers boxed up for whoever wants to take home, and whatever no one takes gets donated to a local shelter. After that, it becomes more of an actual party. Mostly because by then everyone's been drinking for an hour. Not heavily but a few beers or whatever."

"Makes sense. Did I hear Markus right, earlier?  **Two** thirty pound turkeys?

Connor chuckled. "Yes, you heard correctly. That actually brings me to another tradition. In Makus' family, the tradition is that the oldest person - male or female - at the dinner carves the turkey. It was Markus' grandmother Lucy growing up, then Carl, his father. The last few years it's been Josh. Obviously this year Josh isn't the oldest."

"Ah, Con. That's ... You guys don't want some old bastard horning in on your traditions."

Taking a slow breath, Connor had to actually push aside his annoyance. "You aren't horning in, Hank. Markus  _ asked  _ if you would be okay doing it. I think they like having someone older around, makes it feel more like a family thing, instead of a bunch of thirtysomethings acting like a gang of Peter Pan's Lost Boys..." Peeking at Hank, Connor saw telltale rapid blinking and his annoyance melted away. He straightened up and leaned in nuzzling his jaw. "Will you be part of our family, Hank?" he whispered.

That lovely big hand tightened on his shoulder and Hank nodded. "Of course, Con. Thank you. And tell Markus thank you, also." A few breaths and Hank seemed to be back under control, stealing another sip of Connor's juice before turning his head to steal a kiss as well.

The rest of the afternoon progressed pretty much the way Connor predicted. When the cooking was done, and the table set, Markus ceremoniously presented Hank with the carving knife and fork.

Connor had gotten to watch those lovely hands cut defly through the perfectly cooked fowl, slicing off breast, thigh, neatly severing the drumsticks until all of one and most of the breast of the second had been served up. The rest he continued to cut and pile on the platter set aside for it. Once that was done the meal began in earnest.

There were no seating arrangements except for Markus at one end of the table, and the designated carver next to him. For Hank it meant fewer strangers he had to try and make conversation with, for Connor it meant he got Hank to himself.

The pain pills were supposed to be safe with alcohol, but Connor opted against it, already wary of the effect they were having on him. Because he wasn't drinking, Hank had declined a beer as well. On one hand, Connor didn't want him denying himself on his behalf, on the other, he was comforted by the demonstration that while Hank might denigrate himself as a drunk, he was not a full blown alcoholic - he  _ could  _ abstain, or drink in moderation as Connor had seen.

As was usual, all of the cooking was very good and praised as such. The only thing untouched was Elijah's offering, which was in the fridge to be sent to the shelter.

He looked down the table, smiling at all the knots of conversation he saw, different from before. Kara caught his eye, pointed to her mug and gave a thumbs up, and blew kisses. Connor tapped Hank so he could see.

Hank smiled and gave her a wave before leaning in. "Just how bad a cook is Luther?" Hank whispered.

"Pretty bad. He can make tea, if he has an electric kettle and bags, but that's about it. Kara said she's been living on green tea and white rice from their chinese place because most days it's all she can eat."

"Once all the cleaning is over, feel like helping me in the kitchen on a little project?"

Having an idea what Hank planned, and glad of the excuse to avoid the afterparty, he nodded. "Have I said I love you today?" he whispered.

"Every time you look at me," Hank said, pressing a kiss to Connor's cheek. "Love you too." 

During cleanup, Connor was pleased to see Gavin rolling up his sleeves and pitching in with everyone else, bussing dishes, drying, and packing food into meal sized tupperware. He and Hank even wound up working in the same area for a little while with nothing more than a little grumbling from either of them.

Hank of course, to Connor's mind, was amazing. He perhaps didn't have Markus' natural charismatic leadership, but had a hard-earned command presence, and easily fell into sort of second in command position, a role usually occupied by Connor, but he was currently chained to the sink.

In a remarkably short span of time, everything was done, and Hank and Connor were alone in the kitchen, muffled music playing from the study. 

"I know I'm coming off like some pushy old man," Hank began "But I wanted to make a bunch of tea bags for Kara, everything but the lemon is dried so it should keep for a while." As he said all of this, he was getting Connor set up at one of the tables, leg carefully propped up with a second stool.

"It's very sweet. I know some of the others are going to be bringing food over, now that they know. They wanted to have a big reveal, tell everyone all at once so no one was out of the baby loop. And Markus already has a bag of leftovers set aside. She'd love some more of your tea." And, Connor thought privately, it was nice that something good was coming out of Hank's marriage, apart from his son.

Hank set Connor up with the spices, bags, and little spoons, and a quickly written recipe. Sitting beside him while he worked, Hank wrote out more careful instructions. The recipe, along with storage requirements, brewing reccomendatoins, potential added flavorings, and a brief note saying he hoped it all helped, and including his number of she ever needed more of it. Once they were done, Hank helped with the bags, soon having thirty of them loosely filled and neatly tied.

The bags, with the note on top, were packed into another tupperware container, with Connor jotting "TEA!" across the top and adding it to the bag of leftovers for Kara and Luther to take home.

An hour later found Connor sprawled on one of the divans in the music room, watching North and Chloe play heart and Soul on the piano. A brief search spied Hank across the room, talking quietly to Luther, Daniel and Rupert mostly just following the conversation, asking a few questions. 

"I like him," Kara said with a smile, breaking Connor out of his thoughts.

"So do I," he said with a sigh.

"That's pretty obvious. Anyway, we're gonna head off. Baby needs sleep," she rubbed her bump with a smile.

"Oh, of course!" Connor pushed up to his feet and pulled her in for a hug "I'm so happy for you. Do you have names in mind yet?"

"Luther for a boy, Alice for a girl."

"Beautiful, just like their mom," he said, getting another hug and kissing her cheek. He watched her cross the room, making similar goodbyes with the others. At Hank, she pulled him down into a tight hug that he returned, patting her back gently. 

After shaking hands with luther, hank came to sit beside Connor, drawing Connor's feet into his lap once again. "They're good people," Hank said.

"Very good people. Have you decided if you want to stay the night?" Since Sumo was with Jeff until tomorrow, having to get home wasn't a concern.

"That's up to you, I don't want to impose," He was gently massaging Connor's good ankle as he spoke.

"I usually stay, but I usually don't have anywhere special to go. Or anyone else whose opinion matters. If it helps, his guest beds are even bigger than mine is."

"What good is that, when we both prefer sleeping in each other's pockets." Hank asked with a chuckle.

"Fair enough. I'd offer the fact that Markus does fantastic eggs, but I think Simon will be keeping him in bed longer than usual." Connor thought about it and finally shrugged a little. "I kind of wouldn't mind sleeping in my own bed." He'd been staying at Hank's since his injury, with only one visit back to his own pace to grab some clothes. "With you, of course."

"Let me know when you're ready to go," Hank said with a smile, apparently not bother by Connor wanting his own bed, still rubbing his ankle.

"Hank?" he put on a sweet smile.

"Mm?"

"I'm ready to go."

They made their goodbyes, Hank even being civil enough to shake Gavin's hand, since he was talking to Nines and Cleoh when he and Connor made their goodbyes.

Again politely declining a car on principale, they got a cab, first to Hank's place so he could grab a change of clothes or two, then to Connor's place.

They each showered, Connor first, then donned their sleepwear. Connor had ordered a pair of pajama shorts and put them on before Hank replaced the brace. He whined a little as the smartfoam shaped around his foot and assumed the prescribed levels of pressure and stiffness.

Hank kissed the pain away before going to have his own shower. He set the pills on Connor's bedside table after giving him one, along with a glass of water.

Since Connor had already set the security code, Hank merely did a brief light check before climbing into bed and spooning up behind Connor with a whispered 'i love you' here they both fell asleep.

+++++

**The Shirt**

"Too my full recovery," Connor said, lifting his glass of champagne.

"I'll fuckin' drink to that," Hank chuckled as he tapped his glass to Connor's.

The week around thanksgiving had been their toughest. They'd never fought at all, not even a tiff, but it had gotten tense, Connor's pain making him irritable. Hank hadn't helped, he knew, fussing the way he had. The first few days had been fine, but Thanksgiving and everyone  **else** fussing at him also had been a bit much. 

Even so, they never spent time apart they didn't have to, and Hank got his over-protectiveness under control. Connor also toned down his own stubbornness about trying to maintain his usual levels of activity.

Finally the brace had come off, the week before Christmas. It would still ache a little if he was on his feet non stop all day, but it didn't  _ hurt  _ anymore, he said.

To celebrate, they were now at one of Connor's favorite places, which had been trendy and up-and-coming ten years ago and was now simply excellent dining with a solid reputation.

It was also upscale enough that after looking it up, Hank hadn't put up much of a fight when Connor had asked if he could pretty please get Hank a new suit. He knew well enough his old ones were on the shabby side, and didn't fit as well as they'd used to. He'd always been a big man, that wasn't ever going to change.

However,  **something** about the last few months had prompted him to start drinking less, eating a little better, and getting more exercise. If getting pounded into a mattress by a man twenty years younger counted as exercise. So he'd subjected himself to an embarrassing amount of measuring and earlier today they'd picked up his first and probably only ever bespoke suit.

Connor had  **barely** gotten him through the door of his apartment before fucking him in it. If Hank hadn't been driving them in his own car, he was certain they would have had sex _ on the way _ . Thankfully they'd managed to avoid having to dry clean it - though Connor was going to have that spot on the couch professionally cleaned.

With that out of their systems, they'd showered, both taking extra time to get ready, since it was a celebration.

Which is why Hank's hair was tied back and his beard freshly trimmed. He also got to spend the evening looking at  _ Connor  _ in a bespoke suit, which was a sight to fucking behold. He'd seen it once, on their first date, but he'd been trying to deny his attraction to the much younger man, and hadn't allowed himself to appreciate it. Hank wondered if he could "appreciate" Connor in his suit the way he'd done with Hank.

Their food arrived and savored the fragrance of his swordfish steak. "I remember our first date, at the Jazz club," he said with a smile. "I was almost jealous when you got the swordfish instead of the steak. Figured I'd get a really fancy version of something I knew, since it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to eat like the one percent."

"I'm not that rich!" Connor chuckled.

"Con, compared to me you might as well be." Hank was, at times, alarmed at how easily he'd settled into this. He'd fought tooth and nail, trying to put Connor off at every opportunity, but now he honestly couldn't imagine his life without the younger man in it. Sometimes it was scary enough to wake him in the middle of the night. But no matter where they were, Connor was right next to him when he did. Looking even fucking younger, but also almost always curled towards Hank. Whether it was tucked into his side, or sprawled on his back with just one leg hooked around Hank's, they were almost always touching, too.

"Connie?"

At first, Hank didn't think the feminine name had anything to do with them, then he saw Connor's delicate hands tighten on his silverware and his whole face went stony. For the first time he looked almost as tough as his brother and Hank straightened up, noticing the man who'd stopped by their table. Turning a little, Hank glanced up, seeing the man in profile.

Broad but trim build, silvery blonde hair, grey/blonde beard and sharp features, probably rich as Croesus. An ex. Possibly  _ the  _ ex, the last fucker before Hank.

"That isn't my name, Parker," Connor said with ice on every word.

"Didn't used to mind it, Connie." The man smirked. Then he gave Hank a look that was probably meant to be withering. All it did was give Hank a good look at the fact that his nose hair needed trimming. "But I guess a lot of things are different," he sneered. "Slumming it now, I see?"

Hank took a slow breath and drew himself up, trying to formulate a response when Connor spoke. "Don't bother, Lieutenant." That had Hank's attention. Connor  _ never  _ used his rank, not in public or in private. So it had to be for this Parker's benefit. "He isn't worth your time."

Recalling how enraged Gavin used to get when Hank would just ... ignore him, Hank had his response. "Mmkay," he said with an ease he didn't feel, giving a bored twitch of his shoulders and turning back to his meal. Then he added, for both their benefits and with a wicked smile at Connor "You're the boss."

Now equally intent on ignoring the man beside their table, Connor chuckled. "Yes I am," he agreed. He set his silverware down, one hand resting on the table while he took a sip of champagne.

The laugh beside them held a thread of frustration. "Come on, Connie," a soft, manicured hand reached for Connor, moving to draw the back of a finger down his cheek. 

Connor jerked is head away with an expression of pure disgust. "Don't touch me," he growled.

"Don't be like that, we used to have a good thing." At least he didn't try to reach for him again.

"And then we didn't. I've moved on to something far better."

Hank could almost see the smoke coming out of Parker's ears. In a deliberate display, and also because he wanted the contact, Hank reached over, rough hand overing Connor's softer one. "If he isn't worth my time," he kept his voice low, intimate, "He sure as hell isn't worth yours."

Connor turned his hand, twining his fingers with Hank's and giving him a smile that proved the asshole next to their table might as well not even exist. "You're right," he said.

Hank was ready to knock his block off if he tried touching Connor again, but something told him he wouldn't. That would Cause A Scene, even more than he was already doing, and it was not a scene in which Parker would come out looking good.

After realizing he was being completely shut out, Parker finally huffed and strode away. The tension immediately drained from both of them and almost simultaneously they finished off their drinks.

"Fuck, no wonder you think I'm an upgrade," Hank shook his head as he set the empty glass down.

"I can't believe I ever-" Connor sighed, then frowned. "I don't just think so, you're better than him in every way I can think of."

"He can afford to take you places like this."

"So could Elijah Kamski, money doesn't make someone a better person. Being a better human being does. And you're a far, far better human than he could ever hope to be, Hank."

Not having words to counter that, Hank lifted Connor's hand and held it between both of his. "I try to be."

"And you succeed admirably," Connor assured him. Then he smiled, eyes soft. "I know how I want to spend the rest of the evening, after we eat."

"Oh? Care to enlighten an old man?" Hank chuckled as they both returned to their meal.

"Once we get in the car." The other minor cause for celebration was Connor's car finally being out of the shop. The repairs hadn't taken long, but he'd also put in for a whole mess of upgrades.

Dinner progressed, dessert was this fancy-ass strawberry foam shit that barely tasted like anything and even Connor had to admit it was more of a miss than a hit.

"I want you inside me," Connor had said bluntly once his car was taking them to his place.

"Connor, we don't have to, I mean, I love you fucking me-" Connor held up a hand and he stopped.

Clearly collecting his thoughts, Connor took a breath. "I don't want him to have been the last person inside me. Believe me, Hank, I'm very satisfied with our sex life, this isn't me trying to indulge you or switch things up because I'm bored. It isn't really even about Parker. I want you. I want you to-to ... " He sighed. "I want you to make me  **yours** ."

Hank could understand that. He really got off on how deeply  _ owned  _ he felt once Connor was done with him, which was sometimes a while after Hank himself was done. Owned, but cherished and deeply cared for. Wanted in a way fucking someone else didn't quite give him. "Okay." Hank took Connor's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm "Since you asked so nicely, I'll fuck you," he said gently.

"Into next week?" Connor asked, eyes glittering as he moved closer.

"It's already Friday, Con. How 'about I fuck you into the week after?" he offered with a grin.

Connor's needy little moan had almost been enough to get Hank to start then and there. But there was something he had to do first. Connor was offering up so much, and Hank needed to ... It was finally time to show him everything Hank had to offer.

In Connor's bedroom, they kissed and undressed as they always did, this time Hank taking the lead, kissing Connor's neck, easing his shirt off his slender shoulders, kissing along a delicate collarbone, touching him everywhere.

Once they were as naked as they usually got, Connor moved away to get on the bed and Hank caught his hand, drawing him back. "Not done yet," he murmured. "Think it's time you saw everything." He knew it could - probably would - turn connor off, but he desperately hoped they could get passed that. That Connor could not just love him but still be attracted once he saw the mass of scars he had. "It's not pretty but you deserve to see it."

Closing his eyes, unwilling to risk seeing the disgust, Hank pulled his shirt off, holding it in one hand in case he needed to put it back on in a hurry. When he heard nothing after a moment, he moved to do just that until a pair of soft hands stopped him. Then sweet lips pressed against his chest and he almost wept. His shirt was tugged from his hands and tossed aside. "Connor-" 

"I had some idea," He whispered between gentle kisses. "Your shirt rode up one time while you were sleeping, I saw ..." delicate fingers gracing one of the scars that ran down to his gut. "But you weren't ready, and I didn't want you uncomfortable."

Opening his eyes, Hank cupped Connor's face in both his hands, tipig it up to kiss him, deeply and thoroughly. Those sweet hands of his dug themselves into Hank's fleshy sides, gripping largely untouched skin and holding on as if for dear life as Hank set about his task of making Connor feel owned.

Hank knew how much Connor loved his hands, his arms, and that for all Hank liked being manhandled by the smaller man, how much stronger he was. Which is why, after kissing him till they were both breathless, Hank then reached for Connor's thighs and lifted him, pinning him against the wall to kiss him some more.

Slender thighs and wiry arms gripped Hank and he was amazed at how good everything felt on his chest and back, skin kept hidden away for years, even from himself most of the time. Connor's head fell back as he nuzzled and kissed at his throat. Then, keeping in mind the command to make Connor  _ his _ , he latched onto a spot at the base of his neck and  _ bit _ , not enough to break skin but enough to leave the start of a mark.

Connor let out a keening whine of Hank's name, thighs gripping tightly, nails digging into his back. And that gorgeous hard cock rutting against Hank's soft belly.

"Like that?" He purred between repeated nips and sucks. "I think if I kept this up," he paused for an extra long suck and Felt Connor's hands pull at his hair as he kept rocking his hips. "You'd come all over me wouldn't you?" 

Breathy pants became sharp gasps for a moment and Hank looked up to meet Connor's gaze as he nodded. "Y-yeah."

"Good," he chuckled. "That's just what I want you to do, sweetheart." he latched on again and Connor's hips rocked, rubbing against his belly, whining when he couldn't get quite the right friction. Hank bit again and Connor's body jerk as he came, spurting against Hank's belly. Hank leaned back, drawing Connor with him as he stepped away from the wall and carried him over to the bed.

Connor always talked about Hank's hands. Usually when buried to the hilt and whispering into Hank's ear about everything he loved about the older man. He never shied away from touching Connor especially after hearing that so often, but tonight he was downright greedy for it. Kneeling on the bed, Connor's legs draped over his hps, he ran his hands firmly down Connor's thighs and over his ass. Then his hips, up his sides and along his ribs. Over his collarbone, up to his shoulders, and then his neck, making sure to press on the fresh mark.

The only place he skimped really was Connor's soft cock and balls, knowing that while he recovered from orgasm easily enough, right after he came it was so easy for him to get uncomfortably overstimulated if he was touched there too much. And he didn't enjoy it the way Hank did.

From his neck, one hand slid up, stroking his chin, his jaw, his lips until they parted around two fingers and began to suck lightly as Hank rubbed his other hand over Connor's chest. 

Now that his own hand stopped moving - for a moment - Connors hands began to move, stroking over his own. He took hold of one hand, locking eyes with Hank as he uncurled a third finger and took it into his mouth, taking all three in deeper in clear invitation. "Greedy boy," Hank groaned softly as he thumbed a tight nipple.

Connor withdrew three wet fingers from his mouth "Your boy," he agreed and that went straight to Hank's dick. Leaning down, he pressed his bulk against Connor as he kissed him deeply. His skin was like silk against Hank's sensitive chest, and those hands felt amazing on his back, clutching at  _ him  _ instead of his t-shirt.

Hank began to kiss his way down, nuzzling his beard against Connor's smooth skin, loving the way it made him shiver, moan, and writhe. His hands moved up and down Connor's sides, fingers spread, trying to touch him  _ everywhere  _ he could reach while he sucked on each perfect little nipple in turn.

"Hank," Conor had moaned out, one hand threaded into Hank's hair, the other gripping his shoulder. "Please," he rocked his hips up meaningfully.

Hank gave a soft but wicked chuckle. "I'm an old man, Connor," He murmured, turning is head to nuzzle the arm that held his shoulder. "Gotta take my fucking time," he chuckled at his frustrated little groan, but loved that he made no move to actually hurry things along. 

He lowered his head back to Connor's chest and decided it was time to leave another mark. Hank took hold of his chest, strong hands keeping him in place as he latched onto a patch of skin just below one nipple and marked it just as thoroughly as he had the spot on his neck on the opposite side. He started with a bite, then sucked hard, then bit some more.

Only when the faintest hint of pain entered Connor's gaspy moans did he stop and continued his downward path. He could feel Connor's belly quivering under his mouth and hands, and that delicious cock was hard against his chest once again. He slid down - finally really appreciating just how fucking big Connor's bed was. Long past the overstimulation window, Hank drew his tongue up along the underside of Connor's much loved cock. "Got three rounds in you tonight?" They both knew Hank hadn't managed more than one in a few years, but Connor was a lot fucking younger and usually got at last two. Once down Hank's greedy throat, and another buried deep in his fat ass.

"For you? Yeah, yes." Connor twisted his fingers in Hank's hair and pulled him up his body sharply as he pushed up onto his other hand. After a deep hungry kiss he bit Hank's lip "Always have another round for you," he promised.

"Good," Hank purred, shivering at the grip on his hair. "Might see how much I can get out of you tonight." Connor loosened his hold and Hank made his way back down quickly, nuzzling Connor's cock, then began to lick it, making sure his beard came into play, then slowly taking him down his throat. He was usually fine letting Connor set the pace, often rutting shallowly into his mouth. Tonight, at Connor's behest, though, Hank was in charge, and he planned to savor every fucking second. Especially since he had tomorrow off.

Hank devoured Connor the way his lover usually rimmed him, slow and wet and taking for-fucking-ever. He teased the head, then took him down completely, pushing the bulbous head into his throat. He didn't mind if Connor did thrust, but he gripped his thighs, keeping him pinned this time. Finally he sank down once more, eyes pointed up Connor's trim body, watching his slender chest arch as he swallowed and sucked. A sharp thrust up caused Hank to briefly gag, then he was swallowing Connor's offerings and letting him slip free, head resting on his thigh as he let Connor recover.

Connor lay twitching and trembling and a tug on Hanks' hair got his attention, leading to him moving up to lay beside him. Connor wiggled close, nuzzling his chest and neck. "You're amazing," he whispered, legs still splayed, cock softening against his hip.

"You're the amazing one, Connor," Hank was still awed that Connor hadn't flinched or pulled away or tried not to look at his chest, not once since he'd taken his shirt off. He hadn't stared, either. Hadn't gotten overly inquisitive, though he knew the younger man had to be curious. Connor was trusting that Hank would tell him whatever he needed to know in his own time, and was patient enough to wait. To assume they would be together long enough for Hank to tell him.

They kissed, slow and tender, Hank on his side, Connor on his back, a slim hand in Hank's hair as he tasted himself all through his lover's mouth. His free hand was rubbing gently over Connor's chest and belly, just enjoying the smooth, warm skin.

Once Connor was ready to continue, he was arranged on his belly, hips pushed up with expensively plump pillows and Hank once again ran his hands over every trim, pale expanse of skin before massaging his perfectly shaped ass. "Love your fucking handful," he purred. This would be the first time he'd be fucking Connor's sweet little hole, but he'd spent plenty of time admiring and fondling his ass. 

He kneaded for a few more moments as he got comfortable, then parted them and got to work. He licked, rubbing his tongue up and down and around and finally pushing just the tip inside. Connor's breathy little gasps and the way he was rocking, trying to get some friction against the covers assured Hank he was doing a good job. 

Being younger, Connor was also more flexible, so when Hank began to tease a little, just flicking his tongue against that sweet little pucker, he'd found strong fingers in his hair, trying to pull him closer. "Greedy boy," Hank growled with a chuckle. "Do I have to hold your hands down so I can take my time?" He'd mostly meant it playful but Connor had let out a shuddering moan and a sharp buck at the idea.

Which is how Hank had found himself, after a brief discussion, with one large hand gripping Connor's crossed, slender wrists, pinning them to the small of his back as he resumed working him open.

Once he'd done what he could with his tongue, and spent a good twenty more minutes just for the pleasure of it, Hank's fingers came into play. Some jockeying and Connor was holding the lube so Hank could still have one hand holding him, and one hand free without making too much of a mess.

As he really began working him open, Hank took a page from Conor's book and told him how good he was being. What a tasty hole he'd had, how well he was taking his fingers. First one, then two. Then, after Connor asked, a third, strictly more than necessary and they both knew it, but he'd been a while and wasn't a natural bottom the way Hank was.

Finally, Hank had sat up, kneeling behind Connor's upturned ass, letting his hands free. He kneaded his ass, rubbed his cock against his cleft as he leaned down, hands kneading their way up Connor's sides and back. "Still want this, Connor?" He whispered, not really uncertain but wanting to make sure his head was still where it had been some hours ago.

"Please," Connor murmured, turning to nuzzle Hank for a moment. They traded light kisses before Hank sat up again.

He stroked his cock, spreading more slick around, and refreshed Connor's ass with a bit more. One broad hand on the small of his back, Connor helpfully holding his cheeks apart, and Hank eased into his lover's soft, welcoming little hole.

As with everything else, Hank took his time, feeling Connor open up around him, muscles rippling at the unfamiliar but welcome invasion. Once he was fully buried, he pushed firmly against his hips and leaned down. On his elbows, his arms slid under Connor's shoulders and took hold of his hands as he fitted his chin against his neck. "You feel so fucking good, Con," he breathed as he began to rock slowly.

"So do you," Connor gasped, undulating under Hank, trying to rock back but Hank was setting the pace this time, no matter how much he whined so pretty.

Hank kept talking as he rocked into his lover, telling him how much he meant to him, how much he loved all the little things he'd noticed about him. The care he put into everything he did, even when what he did was Hank. Especially when what he did was Hank. How sweet and kind and beautiful he was, how much Hank cherished him.

His hips moved slowly at first, shifting a little, trying to find Connor's sweet spot and he knew the second he found it. Mindful of overstimulation, he teased, enjoying the way Connor bucked and shuddered. A hand pulled free of is gentle grip and tugged on his hair, not so much to control but for comfort. Hank wondered if Connor even  _ could  _ come without his fingers tangled in Hank's mane any longer.

Eventually he lost his capacity for speech and his hips lost any real finesse. For a brief, brief moment he felt like a grunting, rutting bear mounting some beautiful woodland fairy, then Connor had cried his name, gripped him like a vise and Hank's world exploded.

Later, after washcloths and cream, showers and fresh bedding, Connor tucked up to Hank's bare chest, arm around around his belly, head resting on his shoulder. Hank braced for the inevitable 'what's this one from?' but all he did was snuggle like he always did. "Love you, Hank," he whispered.

"Love you too, Con."

+++++

**The Dog**

A few days before Christmas Connor had called in a personal favor - and thrown in an obscene amount of chocolate for a bonus, to get Judy on the desk on Christmas Eve. She had playfully tried to finagle dinner with Hank instead-, and Hank had been willing to take one for the cause, but Connor had been feeling possessive and declined. And had spent a few hours that evening reminding Hank just who was the boss.

Connor knew that no matter what rules he could point to about dogs being allowed, no matter if he had the building managers personal approval, in writing, Thomas, and most of the other security, would never, ever allow a shaggy Saint Bernard into "their" precious building. At least not without putting a thorough damper on the holiday, and making Hank feel bad.

Judy, however, blessed Judes, had merely come out from behind her desk to greet the freshly-groomed dog personally, shaking paws and everything. She also finally got the hug she'd been threatening to steal from Hank but Connor was too happy to even pretend to be jealous.

Earlier that day, Connor had dropped Hank and Sumo off at the groomers, at Hank's request. Connor had been more than willing to deal with fur all over for the sake of having Hank happy at his place at Christmas, but he loved Hank all the more for taking him to get a good wash and brushing to knock loose what they could and minimize shedding.

While hank had done that, Connor had been getting the place ready for him. He wasn't going to cover the furniture or even consider caging or directly confining him, but he wanted to make it ... enticing for him to stay in a limited area of the apartment.

The living room had already been rearranged for the tree, Connor just moved one of the armchairs and its accompanying end table into the dining room where the other ejected furniture was. Making sure it was near the warm vent, like the radiator at Hank's home, Connor had set up Sumo's bed from Hank's place.

He didn't have much in the way of toys, but Connor had confirmed that a large rawhide bone wouldn't go amiss, and if it had an animal safe bow dyed onto it, all the better in Connor's opinion.

In the kitchen, he set up brand new food and water dishes, filled from a fresh bag of Sumo's preferred brand. He'd wanted to get him frankly better food, but he needed Sumo to be comfortable here and for dogs, familiar was comfortable. Thankfully, though he preferred walks, Sumo was paper trained. It would have been foolish for someone with hank's hours to have a dog who wasn't. It was the only upgrade Connor insisted on, waterproof dog pads that were less prone to leaking than newspaper. He'd even found newsprint ones.

Connor was now stretched out on his couch, feet crossed up on the arm, his head in Hank's lap, one gorgeous hand resting on his chest, tucked inside his slightly open shirt.

"Thank you for letting me have Sumo here," Hank said, watching his beloved dog gnaw on his christmas present. "Already felt bad dumping him at Jeff's for Thanksgiving."

"I love him and I love you. I want you both here for Christmas, you're my family," he said, kissing Hank's wrist. Normally, to avoid drinking his way through the holiday, Hank overworked his way through the holiday, swapping shifts with parents who couldn't get the time off. He'd pulled rank this year, and seeing how happy he'd been Jeff had given him a half day on Christmas eve, and all of Christmas day off.

"You're mine, too, Connor. You and him." Hank leaned over, and Connor met him halfway for a kiss before settling back down. The TV was on and they were ostensibly watching some christmas movie, but Connor was lost in his own thoughts.

Connor knew that eventually something would have to change about their living situation. Connor preferred being here, and he thought Hank did as well. There were no ghosts at Connor's place. If Sumo wasn't a non-negotiable part of Hank's life, Connor would probably have already asked him to move in.

Before Hank, Connor hadn't realized how snobby most of the security was at the building. He'd never had anyone over who wasn't obviously part of 'his' world, and except for Judy, they all gave Hank varying amounts of grief when he came to visit. Hank never complained but he could see it bothered him on times when Connor brought him in personally and they shot Hank didry looks they assumed Connor couldn't see. Rules or no rules they would be livid if anything bigger or less posh than a pomeranian lived there.

He also wasn't entirely sure Hank was willing to give up his place, either. They wound up there often enough. Though usually it was because he felt bad about neglecting Sumo to spend time at Connor's. Not that Sumo was ever  _ neglected _ , Hank was too mindful for that, but he didn't like going more than a few days without spending at least a night where his dog could confirm that he was still alive.

Plus it was just inconvenient living in two places, having to swap out clothes, forgetting which garments where where when you tried to dress in the morning, and making sure Sumo was well fed. Connor now having a key to Hank's place did make that easier, since he could pop in when Hank had to work late.

He could move in with Hank, which did have a certain appeal. He'd be forgoing a lot of luxuries, his tub was half the size of Hank's entire bathroom, for example. But he'd get Hank and Sumo full time out of the deal. Nines would also pitch a fit if Connor lived somewhere with virtually no security, and Connor was leery of the idea as well.

The best option would be getting a new place together. Connor could afford it easily but he knew any place that would satisfy his security needs would be impossible for Hank to pay half on. Not that Connor minded, and he kind of liked the idea of supporting Hank, but he didn't know if Hank would be at all okay with that kind of arrangement. Though, Connor turned and nuzzled the expensive new jeans Hank was wearing, he did seem to be getting more and more accustomed to Connor's lifestyle.

"If you were one of your computers, you'd have that blinking light that says you're thinking really hard," Hank rumbled, finger gently tapping Connor's temple with a smile.

Connor laughed softly. "Are you suggesting I'm an android?" he asked.

"Well, you can certainly fuck like a machine," Hank chuckled, fingers gently teasing Connor's nipple.

That was something else he loved about Hank. How easily he could make him laugh. Reluctantly, he eased Hank's hand out of his shirt and sat up, turning to face him. "I was thinking about us moving in together," he said honestly.

Connor could see those lovely blue eyes swirling as Hank's hands rubbed his thighs for a moment. "I'm not sure- I couldn't begin to afford a place you'd be happy with, Con," he said, starting to shake his head.

"I don't mind. I'd be happy to pay for a place for both of us. Or ... I could move in with you?" he asked, feeling a little shy.

Hank snorted softly. "You've got three layers of security to even get into this place, you're not gonna feel safe at my shitty house for the long term."

"I don't like that we don't live together," he admitted. "We spend all of our time together, but we also spend a lot of time shuffling around between your house and my apartment, and Sumo's getting the short end of the stick, and I don't like that any more than you do." He couldn't help but latch onto the fact that at no point was Hank saying he didn't want to do this.

"Let me think about it?" Hank finally said, taking Connor's hand, lacing their fingers.

"I can live with that," he said with a smile and tucked into Hank's side. About five minutes later he spoke again. "You know I'm gonna get my own way eventually right?"

"Oh, shut up and let an old man pretend he has any say in his life anymore," Hank grumbled even as he wrapped his arm around Connor's shoulders and pulled him closer.

+++++

**The Family**

Hank stretched and felt that delicious ache as he woke, enjoying the softness of his new pajamas. Dark green plaid pants, and a matching shirt with a cartoon stocking. While not a stocking, Hank had certainly gotten stuffed last night. Twice. Connor was still asleep beside him, likely a consequence of said stuffings, and creeping out of the bedroom in the middle of the night for no doubt nefarious reasons.

Not unlike the reasons Hank himself was carefully easing out of bed. A few things were already under the tree to Connor from him, but he had a few surprises as well. Since it wasn't his place, and everything he brought in was seen by Connor as a matter of course it had been a lot harder to sneak his own presents in. He'd managed it, though.

He wiggled the lid off the cardboard box he'd brought in a few days ago. He ached at the contents, but lifted the tiny jacket aside and fished out a few small packages, wrapped in the kind of paper he could afford, loving that Connor didn't mind he wasn't as glitzy as his younger lover. Fingering a hand crocheted baby bonnet for a moment, Hank set the lid back in place and moved to place three small gifts under the tree, adding them to the mysterious new pile of gifts that had sprouted in the night.

Forgiving as Connor was about dog hair, he'd  _ just  _ had the couch cleaned so Hank put down a blanket before patting it, inviting Sumo up, scratching his fruff as he rested his head on Hank's lap. "You like Connor, boy?" he asked quietly. "Maybe wanna live with him?" He knew he'd get no answer but it helped to hear things aloud sometimes. Sumo gave a little huff. "Yeah, me too."

They'd talked a little more about moving in, what their real options were. Connor had been right in that he would get his own way eventually. Hank just needed some time to get his head around the fact that he'd be letting someone else support him entirely. He'd been doing for himself since college. Working for every dime he got.

The only real viable long term option was getting a new place together, but that would take time. The easiest option until then would be move Connor into his place for the time being. The safer option would be move Hank and Sumo in here. Hank could deal with the shitty desk security for a little while, but he didn't like not being able to take Sumo out by himself without getting ten rations of shit, and there wasn't a dog park in the immediate area.

One thing Hank had put his foot down about was getting a hotel suite in the interim. Extravagance was one thing - and what was something he never thought he'd say. But  **stupid** extravagance was something else, and spending more than a few days at a hotel was stupid, in his mind. Especially when they both had perfectly good places to live.

The solution they had reached was him and Sumo staying here until after new years. The expected snowfall made walks contraindicated anyway. In that time, Connor would ask Nines to choose a security system to upgrade Hank's house and property. On one hand, it rankled a little to put someone else in charge of that, on the other hand, Nines opinion was very important to Connor, which meant it mattered to Hank. His little brother, owing to his job, was also far more familiar with available personal home security options than either of them were. Connor was also sure that the gesture on Hank's part would help prove to Nines how seriously he took Connor's safety. Secretly, Hank had spent more than one night at his place sleeping uneasily and waking at every strange noise because of the man beside him worth a small fortune. Or several large ones.

Once that was in place, they'd be spending their time at Hank's house, with Connor keeping his place because it was on a lease anyway, and for emergencies.

All the while, they'd be looking for a place for them. Hank was coming to the sinking conclusion that most likely they would end up in a gated community, because he wanted a yard for Sumo. 

The final, and for Hank hardest, step would be selling his house. There would be no reason to keep it, and with the upgraded security systems, it would sell for more than he'd paid, giving him a tidy little nest egg, in case something happened. He shied away from what that something might be. Odds were, Connor would lose him before he'd lose Connor.

That realization caught him flat footed. He was expecting, planning even, to spend the rest of his life with Connor. For all that he bitched about his age, he knew he could potentially have a good thirty years left, now that he wasn't actively trying to kill himself. 

He didn't want to think what he'd look like at eighty three. So he imagined Connor at sixty three, and that was a handsome sight. He'd have deep lines, but they'd be happy ones. He already had the starts of laugh lines around his eyes and they'd be crows feet in thirty years time. Salt and pepper hair, maybe fully grey just at his ears. Still trim, hands still soft. In his mind's eye, Connor had a careworn gold band, though Hank had no idea when that might happen.

He heard the bathroom door close, and a few moments later Connor came out, leaning around the back of the couch to kiss Hank and give Sumo a pet. 

While coffee brewed, Connor came and settled on his lap, sitting on one thigh, arm around hank's shoulders, Hank's arm around his waist, kissing sweetly. "Sumo approves of our plans," Hank chuckled. Hearing his name, Sumo ruffed softly.

"Well, I'm very glad of that." Connor gave hima slow, lingering kiss, fingertips stroking lightly through his beard until the coffee machine buzzed.

After coffee, Hank made pancakes, and then they opened their gifts. Hank's were mostly clothes, an expensive bottle of beard oil, a new genuine leather, police approved shoulder holster, and a little scrapbook of their life together so far that absolutely didn't get Hank a little weepy. The 'Vol. 1' at the front and 'TBC' on the back, however, did have him wiping a few tears. 

Sumo was given a new rawhide bone in addition to the one the night before, and a box of very high end milk bones. "Spoilin' my dog!" Hank had protested with a laugh.

"My kept man needs a kept dog, he needs to get used to being spoiled just like his owner."

Hank's gifts to Connor were fewer, and one was used, but they all came from the heart just as much as Connor's had. The biggest, owing to Connor's tendency to leave notes, was a stationary set with high quality parchment style paper and matching envelopes. Hank had considered getting a bigger one with a pen, but the quality he'd been able to afford dropped considerably, so he'd opted for quality over quantity. Fate had intervened, however, and when he was going through things in attic crawlspace in his house, he'd found one of the boxes from when his parents died. In it was an old fountain pen his grandfather had owned and was well over a hundred years old. After having it professionally cleaned and upgraded to take modern ink, it looked and worked as well as anything Connor could buy. The third, and Hank almost didn't consider it gift it was so insignificant, was a keychain reading "I <3 DOGS" on one side, and a blank spot on the other, into which he'd put a very lovely picture of Sumo.

After their own private christmas was done, they grabbed a light lunch and bundled Sumo off to Markus'.

While less attendance-required than Thanksgiving, Markus' place had become over the years a sort of clearing house around Christmas time. Everyone tried to drop in at some point, dispensing gifts to everyone there, and leaving ones for everyone they hadn't already seen or weren't likely to see that day.

Blue and Traci were visiting their parents for a few days so it was safe to bring Sumo.

Kara and Luther were already there and she was in love with Sumo, not even trying to hide the fact that she was feeding him little tidbits. Connor had done the majority of the gift shopping, since he knew everyone better than Hank, but Hank was glad to run into the couple. 

"His mother kept most of it, but I had some of Cole's things," he told them, holding the box he'd hidden Connor's presents in. "They're ... not doing me any good, and I promise you, Junior is going to grow faster than you can  _ imagine _ . You can't have too many clothes the first few years." His eyes teared up as he recalled but Connor's hand on his shoulder, and the fact that Kara looked like  _ she  _ was trying not to cry, helped keep his own at bay. They cooed over the box, and when Kara commented especially on the crochet bonnet, he pointed out a matching little jacket. "My grandmother made sets for all the babies. She was gone by the time Cole came along - He got the one she made for me, that my mother kept." And that did set Kara off which did end up setting Hank off a little, too. If the suspiciously wet nuzzling of his arm was any indication, Connor as well.

Once the tears were largely dried, more gifts were dispensed. Connor got a box of fancy-ass chocolates, and a coffee of the month thing. Hank, to his surprise got two shirts that were very much in his style, he would have picked them out himself and he wondered how much input Connor had had in them. 

For their part, Connor (adding Hank's name to the card) had gotten some paints and brushes for Markus, as well as a sketchbook. For Kara and Luther, he got them high quality prints of some photos he'd taken of them over the past year. 

When Sumo indicated he needed to go out, everyone piled out one of the many 'back doors' of the mansion. Kara looked a bit like a penguin and parked on one of the patio chairs. Connor, Luther, SImon and Markus started flinging snowballs and Hank decided to sit it out so the teams would be more even. It also gave him a chance to talk to Kara and he was starting to realize that with a few exceptions, no one in Connor's crowd were close to their parents. Some, like Connor and Nines, and Markus' parents were dead, but most of the rest simply didn't get along with their children. More accurately, their children didn't get along with them.

Hank never would have imagined himself simply nodding in vague understanding as a young woman was petting his dog and saying 'The problem my parents had with Luther was his family's money is from shipping, not real estate.'

Between things Connor had said during various conversations, bits picked up at thanksgiving, and what Kara was saying now, he was starting to get a better picture of Connor's upbringing and why his friends were so close knit. Connor and Nines he knew came from a strong family and their parents had been mostly positive influences on their sons. Over the years they had collected the rest of them, starting with Markus. With little in the way of positive parental feedback, they'd turned to each other, forming their own family and largely cutting their parents out. 

The falling snow didn't deter the young men's antics at first, but then it got heavier and showed no signs of stopping or even easing up. Once everyone was back inside, he and Connor conferred while Markus and Simon made hot chocolate and Luther helped Kara to unbundle. They'd have their hot chocolate, then head home, also cutting off their plan to visit Nines. When Connor called his brother to apologize, they made plans for the next clear day and Connor looked confused when he hung up.

"Something wrong?" He asked, dropping his arm around Connor's shoulders when he sat down.

"Not wrong but ... I thought I heard someone there."

"Could have had people over? Some of your other buddies? Cleoh maybe, they seemed close."

"I'm pretty sure it was a man's voice. And no, Nines isn't really close with anyone but me and Cleoh. I mean he's definitely part of the crowd but he's more likely to come here on Christmas than anyone but me to go there. Only reason we didn't pick him up is he said he wasn't in the mood for a big crowd today. Do you think he has a boyfriend and hasn't told me?"

"Clear, negotiated boundaries and no emotions, you said. How long before you told him about me?"

Connor coughed slightly at that. "The day we met. I told him how charming I found you. But he's always been more ... reserved than me."

Hank smiled, squeezing Connor's shoulder. "I was anything but charming and you know it, Con."

"Well, I was thoroughly charmed, you were therefore charming," Connor pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"That's not how it works," Hank protested with a chuckle.

"Kara, tell Hank he's charming," Connor said as she came in to settle in her chair.

"Connor! Don't embarrass him! He's right though, Hank, you're very charming."

"I'm a grumpy old bastard," Hank said, having the hardest time not smiling as he did.

"Of course you are," Connor agreed, giving his leg a pat.

After hot chocolate, which was deliciously rich with a dash of peppermint, they made their goodbyes.

Back at Connor's place, they towelled Sumo off and he flopped down for a nap after what was a busy day for him.

"Oh, I asked Nines about the security system for the house. He said he'd start looking tomorrow."

"Good. Does he need anything from us? Key or anything?"

"For the installation, but all he needs to look around is the general layout of the house and the size of the property and I could tell him that." Connor finished fussing with their new now opened gifts under the tree and finally joined Hank on the couch, those fancy-ass chocolates in his hand.

Hank plucked one he knew was Connor's favorite from the box and offered it to his lips. "I realized something this morning, before you woke up," He said quietly.

Connor nipped at his fingers as he took the chocolate. "What was that?" he asked.

"I'm, ah," How to tell him in a way that didn't sound depressing, an wasn't a proposal? He wouldn't do  _ that  _ without a ring and until he sold the house he couldn't begin to afford one good enough for Connor. Of course, to Hank's way of thinking,  _ Connor  _ couldn't afford a ring good enough for Connor because a ring that was as wonderful as him simply didn't exist. "I can't picture the rest of my life without you there. And it's a life that's a lot longer than I used to want to picture it."

"Hank-" Connor seemed at a loss for words for once. The chocolate was set aside and Hank soon had a lapful of very affectionate boyfriend who seemed intent on kissing him to death.

What a fantastic way to go.

+++++

**The End**

Connor's hand slid across the cold sheets and he whined as the lack of warmsoftfuzzy penetrated his sleep fogged brain. Rolling onto his back, he recalled the night before. Hank had to work, his price for getting Christmas off was working the overnight shift on New Years. So Connor had wound up at Markus' with about half the rest of the crowd. Drinking, abusing the Karaoke machine, then gathering for the countdown. The others were watching the big screen in Markus' living room. Connor was watching his phone.

Hank was able to sneak away for a few seconds, though not able to call. He did send his own countdown, ending with an 'i love you' and a series of kiss emojis that had Connor's heart thumping with the rarity of their use.

A little grumpy at waking alone, however expected it had been, and realizing he had a mild hangover, he climbed out of bed, took care of business in the bathroom, then shuffled out to the kitchen to make coffee, stopping when he saw Hank on the couch, looking like he hadn't changed after work.

"You're up," Hank said with a smile, hand reaching over the back of the couch for Connor. "I considered joining you but I knew we wouldn't leave the bed for a few hours if I did that," 

"You're right," Connor agreed, bypassing coffee in favor of sitting next to Hank. "So why didn't you?"

"There, uhm, somewhere I'd like to take you. It's a bit of a drive, and with another storm coming, I'd rather we go this morning than try to put if off. Is that okay?"

"Of course," Anything Hank wanted to do at any time was okay in Connor's experience. "Where is it you want to go?"

"I can't-I can't say it." Hank's eyes clouded with an all too familiar, though less frequent, pain.

Something to do with Cole, then. "Okay," he leaned over to kiss him lightly. "I'll go get changed." One more kiss and he stood.

By the time he came out, Hank had two travel mugs ready. A glance confirmed Sumo had fresh food and cean pads. He took the mug offered with a sigh and just leaned against Hank as he had his first sip.

"Mmm, someone have a hangover?" Hank asked, chest rumbling under Connor's ear.

He nodded and lifted his hand, thumb and forefinger half an inch apart.

"Well, sounds like you had a good time. Enjoy seeing everyone without an oldfuck in tow?"

"They all asked about you," Connor said, giving Hank's love handle a squeeze. He knew it was usually meant teasingly these days but he didn't like Hank talking down about himself.

They left Sumo with pets and cuddles, then climbed into Hank's car. Connor offered his own but Hank said he needed to drive, that this was something he had to personally do. On their way out of Detroit, at Hank's request, Connor told Hank about the party, relaying some of the more amusing stories, trying to lighten the heavy mood of the car. It worked, somewhat, but only a little.

They eventually drove into a small town, and Hank began to speak, quiet and soft the way he always did about his son. "Because she had primary custody, she got to decide where he was buried. Spiteful bitch put him as far away from me as she could."

Connor blinked, Hank didn't usually talk about his ex wife so ... harshly, usually preferring 'ex wife,' 'Ivy,' or just 'Cole's mother.' Looking around, Connor's stomach tightened as he realized where they were most likely going.

His suspicion was confirmed when Hank pulled into a slow-clad cemetery, guiding his car along the sunken paths that marked the unplowed roads. Finally he stopped, turning off the car but not getting out. "I've only come back twice since he was buried," he murmured. "Never brought anyone. Never had anyone I wanted to bring." He reached for Connor's hand, squeezing before he finally climbed out.

Connor followed as Hank made his way through the rows, unerringly finding a small stone under a tree. When Hank crouched and began clearing away the snow, Connor followed suit, hoping he wasn't overstepping a boundary.

Hank just gave him a brief smile as they dug out his son's gravestone. Finally it was bare, cold grey stone.  **COLE HENRY ANDERSON** in chiseled letters, with  **beloved son** below it. And under that a pair of dates that spoke of a life far too short.

Finally Hank stood, gazing down at the stone and taking Connor's hand, fingers laced together. They stood in the chill air for a few minutes before Hank spoke. "I know I said last time that I'd be seeing you pretty soon," Hank said, Connor's heart pounding as he shifted closer to Hank, holding his large hand in both of his own. "You might have noticed but uhm, there's been a change of plan, kiddo. I love you, and I miss you so much-" Hank's voice broke and he wiped at his face.

With himself barely holding back tears, Connor pressed his face into Hank's shoulder, feeling his hand being tenderly crushed but not minding at all, touched beyond measure that he was here. That this was happening.

"It's gonna be a while. Hope-hopefully a hell of a long while." He finally seemed to realize the grip he had on Connor's hand and released it, instead wrapping his arm around Connor's shoulders. "But I'm bringing someone with me. Or, probably, I'll get to tell you all about him while we wait. There's so much to tell, Cole. And by the time I get up there, there's gonna be so, so much more. I think- I think you would-" Hank ran out of words and Connor turned him enough to pull him into a tight hug.

He could feel tears on his own cheeks as well as Hank's against his neck and he wasn't sure how long they stood like that. Finally Hank drew back enough to meet Connor's gaze, foreheads pressed together. Nothing was said, but somehow so much was communicated.

Seemingly grounded by the contact, Hank straightened after several moments, addressing the stone once again. "Cole, this is Connor, the love of my life."

+++++

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If there's anything that should be tagged please let me know!

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to tag the major overall things, but I'll be adding more specific tags as each chapter goes up, if I miss out anything, let me know, please!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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